Yesterday morning we were running late. We often are. But unlike other rushed mornings, I had neglected to pack Tommy's lunch the night before as is my habit. I mentioned on the way out the door that perhaps he could simply purchase school lunch today. His faced creased in horror. You see, after much begging and cajoling on his part, I had allowed him to try school lunch a few weeks earlier to prove that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Apparently, he learned his lesson. Not a problem. I was heading back to the school in only an hour to volunteer in his class, I could bring his lunch then. Of course I forgot it. As I was getting ready to leave the school I informed him that he would have to eat the swill the school district provides after all. He looked stricken and so very sad and I felt guilty, guilty, guilty. After all, this was my fault. Twice. So I checked him out of school for an hour and took him out to lunch because, maybe your school is different, but at ours school lunch does not even qualify as food by my standards, and because I could. His grilled cheese on homemade bread came with handcut fries made from actual potatoes with the skins still on and it came in an awesome car-shaped container. And it came with a thrilled kid who couldn't stop talking about how his Mom was the very best.