Mama, it doesn't matter

I'm sometimes a bit of a control freak. I fretted over Kevin's lunch items when he started kindergarten because he can't open most of our plastic containers. Before purchasing some that he can open, I accidentally packed him regular containers one day without thinking about it. Then I worried because if I'd been unable to open my lunch items, I would've just put them back in my Pigs In Space lunchbox and not eaten. Kevin, on the other hand, asked the lunch room monitor for help. Huh, how about that?

The second day of school, he asked to buy lunch. In all my years of school, I never bought my lunch. And I haven't seen how Kevin's school does it, so I didn't know how to tell him to proceed. I agreed to let him buy lunch after all but tried to explain how it might work.

"You probably have to pick up a tray and then tell the person behind the counter-" Kevin interrupted me to inform me, "they're lunch ladies." I wasn't sure that was a politically correct label but I guess it is. I continued, "You'll have to tell the lunch lady what you want to eat - tell her cheese pizza. Then you need to pick out a fruit-" He asked, "Will they make me?" I said, "No, but I will. So you have your tray and your pizza and your fruit and then you can pick your milk. Hmm... Maybe the milk is at the beginning of the line. Well, either get your milk at the beginning or the end, I'm sorry, I just don't know."

Kevin replied nonchalantly, "It doesn't matter," as if he had some inkling of the earthquake of uncertainty in my soul, and he grabbed his backpack and bounced out of the house.