The Complaint Department is closed

“We never get pancakes for breakfast.” This came from Sassy in the form of a complaint when I kissed her good night.

I laughed. “You’re going to need to apply for a new mom if that’s really important to you.”

“No. I’m just saying. You hit snooze a hundred times before you get up and then it’s too late to make breakfast.”

This is a true statement. Keep in mind I’ve only been in bed for five or six hours by 7am. I’m functionally exhausted.

“You can set your alarm and get up and make your own breakfast, you know.” I’ve mentioned this more than once. There is plenty of food to eat in the morning, but someone is busy fighting with her brother, playing on her phone, or watching The Golden Girls on television. Seriously. My 12-year-old LOVES The Golden Girls.

She rolled her eyes. It was dark, but I could feel it happening. “And your lunch making skills need to be addressed.”

“Really,” I said, my voice dripping in sarcasm. “What’s wrong with your lunch?”

“Well, the sandwich was good, but not what I was expecting.” This morning she and the Bandit got chicken breast sandwiches — made with love and a little variety. “I was expecting peanut butter.”

“And this was a problem?”

She patted my arm in darkness. I could feel herself working up to some criticism. “No, it was good.” I heard the qualifying emphasis. “But that apple–”

“What’s wrong with your apple? You had fruit in your lunch.” Isn’t that what mothers are supposed to do? Put fruit in their kid’s lunch? I’m very confused. Mrs. Cleaver always put an apple in the Beaver’s lunch.

“It got icky.” That’s a relative term. Sassy is extraordinarily picky. Everything is either icky, fatty, or gross.

“Um hmmm.”

Yes, this looks very suspicious

“And then there was that thing that I was not alerted to.” She’s referring to a yummy morsel of coffee cake with raspberry jam in the middle.

“What the hell does that mean? You were not alerted? What am I supposed to do exactly? Do I need to put a menu in your lunch every morning?”

“That would be really helpful actually,” she said. “It was yummy — don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I didn’t know what it was.”

“Duly noted.”

I’m filing this complaint right in there with how she’d like her socks folded.