Bento envy - BYO anxiety

Tug-of-War corn

I have been concerned about today for over a week; my mummy lives on a different continent, and today I have to bring my own lunchbox. I'm not even sure I have a lunchbox.

What will the other mummies make? Will they do the fancy cut out carrot pieces, dainty ham & cheese rolls with charactered toothpicks, myriad hors d'oeuvres? What if I don't have enough and they all want to share? Or if they all laugh at mine? Or I can't finish? Even worse, if I don't remember it is BYO bento day and look like a twerp come lunchtime? Stress!

I had plenty of time to dwell on my late night cooking experiment & tupperware search last night, as the children yet again ran through rehearsals for sports day, which mostly meant squatting on the playing field and sifting gravel through their fingers.

What's your problem today?

For added drama today, man wielding starting gun appeared from behind a tree. A small guy, with a loud gun. Isn't it always thus? He was a very proud looking chappy, in full sporty oyaji gear to do the honours. That he pointed his gun aimlessly off to his right while giving his dentures some fresh air concerned me - and me alone it seemed. Given how bored I was (we've done this practicing routine a few too many times already) I had time to reflect on just how easy it was for a bloke with a gun to toddle up to the middle of the playground in the first place. There is no fence to speak of, save a low one to stop the kids falling into the road. No self-locking gates, absolutely no metal detectors or security guards (think this actually my role?!)

Bizarrely, a pair of SDF NCOs sauntered past the school, in their drab olive uniforms, chests out feeling important offering salutes to the nippers who were not gravel gazing. A few things wrong here - you return a salute to inferior ranks not offer one, and when you do, do it properly (fingertips brush cap peak, not 12 inches away; could just as well be pizza delivery boys. Except pizza boys have better uniforms).

And so to lunch, where I chose the wrong table to sit with. Deciding which group to join based on initial good posture backfired as I ended up next to lottery lunch germs lad, arm-hitting endurance test dummy and the unfunny fat girl comedian. At least my triple-hot shrimp curry looked as menacing as it tasted, and the turmeric rice with sultanas freaked on-lookers...what is it about dinner ladies? They sent a rep from the kitchen to have a look!

Quick - water that cabbage!

While I was enjoying my sweaty lunchbox, it also occurred to me that so far, I have not seen anyone chugging back meds or taking time-outs for allergies, claiming special diets or otherwise being particularly picky. Quite the opposite in fact - eat your food and very little sympathy. In another lifetime I worked in a kitchen in a children's summer camp in the USA. Mealtime was Smartie time, and the busiest place to be the dispensary.

As the minibuses drove out to a 'farm' this afternoon, I was in the rear jump-seat - and increasingly wound up as my arm-hairs got pulled, orifices challenged & generally groped. For all the effort of the trip out to Misato village, we spent 5 minutes picking a cob of corn each and so many educational opportunities went begging. The unoccupied kids watered a line of cabbage, but why not explore/draw all the other stuff we can see? Make the most of the location and the local knowledge - the old aproned lady who was lurking when we arrived, perhaps? The walnut tree she was standing under was well worth a story...

Starting to think a lot of window dressing going on & not so much consideration about the educational content.