Poor deprived children

It's hard to be part of a large family. It often means that budgets are tight, and special treats are just that... rare and special. The pool of what constitutes a special treat is also significantly larger than for a family with a much smaller number of children.

The other day L. and G. found some instructions in a book for making large paper masks, and came running to me, asking if they could make them. I showed them what paper bags we had, and let them figure it out. Masks were made, but it wasn't the masks that are the important part of this story. No, it was the small paper bags. You know, the take-your-lunch-to-school-in size. I had a whole package of them which I had handed to them for mask making. (The various stuffed animals needed masks as well, you know.)

The masks were unremarkable, but it was what K. came up with for the rest of the paper lunch bags that caught my interest. For the past several days, K. (and subsequently quite a few sisters) has had McDonald's for lunch. But they haven't actually had McDonalds for lunch. That only happens around here under extreme circumstances... after having driven for hours without having seen another rest stop, turn-pike sub-par choices, emergency protein to allow parents to keep their sanity... and while many of the family members do not see it as a positive event, some of the younger ones see it as a treat above all others. K. would definitely fall into the second category.

So how has K. had McDonalds for lunch for several days in a row if I have not driven to provide such a feast? Well, he has taken those brown paper bags, cut them down to the right height, written McDonalds on them, and then filled them with his lunch. Yesterday it was just him, today it was K. and several others. They were all happily walking around the yard, eating their lunch out of their paper bags and having a lovely time.

Yes, the poor deprived children have had to make due with real food, paper bags, and imagination. Perhaps I should start saving for their future therapy bills right now. And no, I didn't get a picture. If there is a third day of fast food for lunch, I'll be sure to take one.


Carla said…
My sister had a phrase that she repeated throughout my nephew's growing up years. "It's another thing he can tell his therapist some day."

It usually revolved around her being a "mean mom" and saying "no" sometimes.

Anonymous said…
Fodder for the couch....

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