Friday, March 16, 2007

The Great Chicken Nugget Debacle

Last week, Queen Bee was famished at dinner. Ace said she ate 1 1/2 grilled cheese sandwiches, 1/2 a peanut butter sandwich, 2 handfuls of chips, and some milk. She threw up at 8:30 that night because (1) she was getting over a virus and (2) she ate a lot.

Thinking that it was strange that she was that hungry, I asked her what she had for lunch that day. This is what I found out:

Queen's "best friend" ... let's call her Carrie ... was eating the Queen's chicken nuggets. Without the Queen's permission. As in "I don't want these burned nuggets ... you are trading with me." The Queen doesn't want to eat the rejects from Carrie's tray, so she eats two.

This isn't the first time this has happened, either. I guess Carrie had a bad habit of taking food from the Queen's tray when the Queen got up to get something or throw something away.

I got pissed. I popped an email off to the school, and then thought I should probably have talked to the mom about it before I did that. But it was already too late. The teacher called me after school that day, telling me that the principal had pulled Carrie into the principal's office and asked her about it. Of course, Carrie outright denied it.

The following day during gym, Queen said that Carrie approached her and said "why did you have to go and tell your mom?" and denounced the Queen as her best friend. However, 20 minutes later, Queen said that Carrie was asking her back.

The teacher asked for names of anyone who could corroborate the Queen's accountings of the situation. She rattled off two names for me, so I sent the names to the teacher. I didn't hear anything else about it until this evening.

The teacher approached me and said they took care of the situation by sending a letter home with Carrie to her parents, telling them that Carrie was no longer allowed to buy the chicken nugget lunch at school, and that she had to pack her lunch because apparently, this problem was not just with Queen. It was also with the girls who had corroborated the story.

I suppose if the shoe were on the other foot, I would have liked to have taken care of it myself, but I know what would have happened: Carrie would have denied it like she initially did with the principal, and then that would be the end of it. There would have been no follow-up or follow-through.

Yes. This is "just" a school lunch. But it is MY kid's school lunch and is she was doing that to someone, you better sweet believe I would read the riot act to her many times. And the time that my kid comes home and is famished because she only had two out of five nuggets, then the gloves are off and it is an all out fight. I owe a duty to my kid and not to the feelings of a parent.

So there. And now the Queen has a new best friend ... which is just fine with me. I don't play well with kids who decide who is going to be your best friend on a daily basis.

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4 Comments:

Anonymous kailani said...

That girl sounds like a bully. I think it's great that you didn't let her get away with it. Nip it in the bud.

12:11 AM  
Blogger Knitting Maniac said...

It will be interesting to see if the mother talks to me today as we have a basketball game together.

7:40 AM  
Blogger Ann said...

Yeehaw! Good for you. We call that the Mama Bear syndrome...and you put it to perfect use!

11:43 AM  
Anonymous Robin said...

Ahh the chicken nugget thief..little brat. Keep your hands on your own lunch tray :)
Lunch room drama! Got to love it!

5:28 PM  

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The Lovely She, that is me!

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

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The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.
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The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.
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The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

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The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.

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