“What IS this, Mom?”

“It’s a peanut butter sandwich,” I say. It shouldn’t be a surprise. He eats a peanut butter sandwich on store-bought white bread every…single…day.

I used to make the bread at night–it’s easy–and the sandwiches in the morning, but then he discovered the tasteless stuff at school.

“It’s frozen!”

“Yes, I took it out of the freezer.” I make all the sandwiches at the beginning of the week, then I deal them in the bags. Anything that makes life easier for moms, once discovered, can’t be good. 

“I’m not eating it, it’s FROZEN!!!” And so it begins. The morning meltdown, the power struggle. I can’t lose. If I lose today, it’ll be twice as hard tomorrow. But I don’t have time right now because the bus is around the corner. 

I should say, “Then starve!” but instead I say, “Fine,” and I tell him I’ll remake the sandwich. “But you’re making your own lunch at night from now on.  I pretend to switch the sandwiches and add in the pre-packed Goldfish, Saltines, and Oreos he has been eating for weeks.

“Time to go.” He finds his hoodie and put on his shoes.

He thinks he’s won, but I know the truth. And next week, I’ll toss a frozen sandwich in his bag but I’ll make sure he’s not looking. 

Because moms always win in the end.

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