This is all a part of our parenting philosophy.

Dear Big J,

Someday, you will THANK ME for being this embarrassing.  And making you take your lunch to school in (what looks like) an insulated golf bag.  


I *believe* your father kindly asked me to toss this golf-bag-sized-cooler.  I said "No" because I have a disease called HOARDING--but please don't worry, it will only prove fatal if I am crushed by an avalanche of my acrylic paints, and/or my countless bins of baby clothes.  Instead, the good Lord has chosen to work life lessons into my disability, and I greatly look forward to the day when L's old feeding tube supplies will aid your understanding of science (and *hopefully* not a talent for cooking meth).  And I think we all know that my stash of post-birthing supplies (link HERE) are a lesson in ABSTINENCE, son.


You can't BUY the quality of this education.  You must simply survive it.


You see, we are two weeks into the school year, and you have lost your lunch bag.  This was a tragic error on your part, as it has resulted in having to take the LARGEST LUNCH BAG known to man, to school today.  It's entirely possible that your arms are not long enough to actually reach your lunch at the bottom--Dad and I have discussed this, and we have decided that in addition to your lesson on responsibility?  You will also need to hone your skills of resourcefulness to successfully survive the lunch room today.  Rig up a contraption MacGyver-style to fish your lunch out, or flirt with the lunch lady, or kill the kid next to you for his tuna sandwich--just figure it out, son.  If you work extra hard and Mark Burnett is still alive in 15 years, there is a good possibility that you could be an actual contender on "Survivor"--in that case, please, PLEASE never align yourself with a woman who packs a string bikini as her bathing-suit-of-choice for a month in the Amazon rain forest.  That's just plain dumb.




If you are wondering why your lunch bag is also SO heavy (in addition to being tall and incredibly awkward)?  It seems that we are also down one, small ice pack.  Since I wouldn't want your yogurt to spoil, we have chosen to use the 10-pound, blue ice block that is designed to provide portable refrigeration for large coolers. Consider it a favor, and further training for your inevitable reality-TV debut.  Whether you are expected to carry 100 gallons of water on your shoulders for a food challenge, or you are spilling your guts to Dr. Drew on "Celebrity Rehab", I am fairly confident that the enormous-insulated-golf/lunch-bag-incident will provide the weight training and emotional damage necessary for good TV.  


And how else do you expect to survive your teenage years, when we take that photo of you sporting your sister's princess costumes, and tag you in it on facebook?  Or when Dad videotapes your ENTIRE first date, and then broadcasts it live on YouTube?  You will surely die of that kind of humiliation, if not properly trained with lunch bag shenanigans and April Fool's Jokes and entire blog posts dedicated to your childhood.  When you think you are going to die of embarrassment?  Just remember that it gets much, MUCH worse, and it all comes to a head at your rehearsal dinner, where photos of EVERY INJUSTICE WE HAVE EVER MADE YOU SUFFER THROUGH, will be revealed in a slide show set to slow jam ballads of the 80's and 90's.  


If you can survive that night without killing us in our sleep?  We will have succeeded in raising you well.  Otherwise, you will be facing jail time--and let's face it, your childhood will have prepared you beautifully for that scenario as well.


We love you, Big J.   Now go on and give me 20 more bicep curls with the 30-pound lunch bag, as I believe we have established that it's for your own good.


xoxo,
Mom