What is it about parenting that makes you want to roll your kids in bubble wrap so they never get hurt?

Only this time, I’m talking about their feelings. My oldest came home from school today and told me that a boy at school told him his lunch box was ‘lame.’

LAME?

It’s camouflage, how’s that even possible? It’s not like I sent the kid to school with something too childish for his age, like Winnie the Pooh. He certainly wasn’t sipping soup out of a Barbie thermos, for cryin’ out loud. I had to laugh when I caught myself ready to put on my protector cape and fly off to defend my 7-year-old son and his hardly-lame lunchbox.

Yet, kids have to fight their own battles.

They can’t have their moms and dads donning masks and capes and saving the day like the Incredibles. Not that I wouldn’t, but that’s not realistic. Instead, I gave him the talk that sometimes these things happen, and how to handle it in the future.

By the way, Griffin’s Aunt Shel got him his so-called ‘lame’ lunchbox.

And I happen to love it.

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