The Good, the Bad and the Healthy?

Hey there, fellow trench-mates in the never-ending parenting battle! Gather 'round as I regale you with a bite size (haha, see what I did there?!) tale of wildly disproportionate insanity.

So, picture this: my 4-year-old son marches home from school, looking as carefree as ever. I ask him about his day, expecting anecdotes of adventure and playground conquests. Instead, he drops a bombshell that would leave any self-respecting mom scratching her head in disbelief. "Mom," he says with the nonchalance of a Zen master, "I'm not allowed to have chocolate in school."

Naturally, my immediate reaction is one of bewildered sarcasm. "The dark chocolate quinoa crisp I packed you?” Oh, the horror. And here I was, innocently thinking that the dark chocolate quinoa crisp I packed was the epitome of snack-time wizardry. Silly me. “It's QUINOA! It's a friggin’ SUPER FOOD!" I exclaim, the irony dripping from my voice like chocolate from a discarded quinoa crisp.

My son continued to share the rest of the experience. The teacher, in all her wisdom and authority, actually snatched the forbidden treat from my son's innocent grasp and committed the unthinkable act of throwing it straight into the trash. Bravo, teacher, bravo. I can only hope you enjoyed that moment of snack-time power.

Naturally, I sought solace in the company of my fellow moms. We gathered like a secret society of snack rebels, sharing tales of bizarre teacher interactions and the misadventures of our mini-me’s. Misery may love company, but shared absurdity is where the real fun begins.

Here's where the story takes an unexpected turn. While I stewed in a cauldron of frustration, my son showcased an impressive ability to shrug off the incident. My pint-sized philosopher couldn't care less about the chocolate debacle.

The next morning, on our way to school, I couldn't help but apologize to my son for inadvertently getting him in trouble. After all, I wanted to shield him from unnecessary reprimands. With all the indifference of a teenager at a family gathering and the peacefulness of Yoda, he said "It's okay, Mom…we're ALWAYS in trouble at that school." Which is true; I think there’s a secret rule book that we’re not privy to that continually sets us up for failure. And he’s never let it bother him.

Here I was, seething with imaginary comebacks and plotting my revenge against the chocolate-quinoa oppressors. Oh, how my son has become the master, teaching me the art of not giving a flying quinoa crisp. His resilience in the face of arbitrary rules is a lesson in zen-like detachment that I clearly need to learn.

Quinoa-gate is not a tragedy. It's a comedy, a farcical parade of absurdity that reminds us to find humor in the quirks of life. We may stumble upon the occasional hurdle, but it's how we handle those hurdles that truly matters.

So, let us raise our metaphorical glasses to my son, the young sage who shrugs off the trivialities of chocolate bans and schoolyard skirmishes. And let's not forget the power of a dark, dry sense of humor, for in the face of adversity, it can be the secret weapon that keeps us sane.