Packing a lunch for your child or partner is more than an everyday act of care. It’s an act of love, especially if you stick a little secret note in it.
Inserting a love note into a lunchbox has become a well-known way of communicating with your child or partner. But what happens when lunchboxing is not just routine, and turns into an act of love?
I remember the two occasions as a child when I had to bear the consequences of misbehaving. My parents were reluctant to act on misbehaviour, often seeing it as a form of self-expression. My siblings may disagree with me, but I never really knew the system of consequence-related discipline.
My parents approached it in more effective ways, including my dad “having a chat” with me, sending me to time-out in the bathroom, or my mom doing something to let me know that she was not amused by my behaviour.
How did she do it? Easily and very effectively. Occasionally, I’d wake up in the morning, to a letter stuffed underneath my bedroom door, written by a worried mom at 2am. (nowadays, I know how that feels).
Those letters have become treasures I keep in adulthood, and go back to, when I feel I need to hear her voice. When I was in primary school, she’d lovingly pack my lunchbox with: beetroot sandwiches.
Now, fresh white bread, smoothed over with butter, and gorgeously moist beetroot tastes great (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it). But wrap that lovely sandwich up, put it into a lunchbox, leave it there for a few hours and…well, I’m sure you can guess the effectiveness of this subtle communication device. By the time I’d reached the playground at lunchtime, I would be greeted by soggy, pink bread.
Inedible but meaningful, that act of maternal communication taught me something that’s stuck with me for my own journey in parenting. Lunchboxes are a way to communicate, and that’s what I try to do, every day. A dear friend noticed it a few years ago, and quipped a curve on a cliché, by saying: “You pack a mean lunch.”
When my then-boyfriend and I decided to amalgamate our homes, my love-lunchboxing extended to him too. Now and then, I’ll include a note, but it’s the contents of those lunchboxes that form my true focus.
Some days, there’ll be a colour theme. Other days, I’ll test their palates with something new I’ve discovered in stores, or try out a recipe I read online. Now and then, I’ll load those lunchboxes up with treats, and other times, they’ll be filled with organic, freshly chopped crudité. It’s all about balance, , but for me – it’s really about love. I pay more attention to their lunchboxes than I do to our dinners.
Of course, the act of lunchboxing can feel tedious at times. Look at any kid’s lunchbox on the first day of school, and compare it with the lunchbox they open two days before the end of the school year. That’ll tell you a story or seven. I’ve found the best way to get past the tedium of it, is to shake it up now and then. Ditch the sandwich, slice that fruit with cookie cutters or – my favourite – ditch the lunchbox entirely and ditch school for the day too. There’s nothing wrong with a mental health day. Don’t worry – I’ll write you a note, let’s go to the movies.
Turning your lunchboxes into acts of love needn’t to be difficult. A little note, a sliced-up pear, or a treat from the sweet aisle that’s probably not in the recommended food group. But please, don’t pack your loved ones beetroot sandwiches.
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