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My daughter had a miserable time picking out a school lunch box for this year. She debated for what seemed like forever over several different ones. Finally, she had it narrowed down to three. I tried to help her make the decision, but she wanted to pick the perfect lunch box for her. I simply sighed and hoped that this ordeal would soon come to an end. And I also realized that she was only in the first grade. I had many more years to come of picking out the perfect lunch box. She chose a pink Dora lunch box that she had originally picked up. I made sure we paid for it immediately and left the store before there was any time to change her mind.

Many parents out there can relate to this drama. Picking out a lunch box is a very important decision for kids of all ages. It can’t be something that is out of style, too immature, too girly, too boyish - had to be just perfect. All we can do is stand there and wait for them patiently. Some parents let their kids have more than one lunch box. Perhaps that is a wise idea, then they can decide on what mood they happen to be in that day or week. But, I was only ever allowed to have one lunch box each and every school year and that’s what I’m passing on to my daughter. Now, if her lunch box would break, that would be a different scenario.

Any cartoon character or movie invented seems like it can be found on the front of a lunch box these days. They have changed greatly since my childhood and yet, not at all. One thing has changed though - the price of the lunch box. I’m not saying that they are overpriced for the time that we live in, but the prices of them have nearly doubled since my childhood days. Of course, most things have. When I was young, there were not too many choices for a lunch box every year. Now, there are aisles of them to choose from. I still have an old lunch box of mine in my attic. I wonder if it would be worth anything. There are some antique lunch boxes that I have seen selling for quite a pretty penny. I highly doubt that my cheap lunch box would even function properly anymore. At the moment, my daughter is using her lunch box to collect flowers. I guess a lunch box has more than one purpose.

I wish I still had the A-team lunch box that I had in elementary school. I think that at the beginning it was my brother’s, but I snatched it up the first second that I could. It was so cool. The pictures of the show’s characters made me feel safe when I was just a little kid in elementary school. If I could walk into my office every day with that box, they would all be good days. Who would mess with a secretary with an A-Team lunch box? No one? Yeah. I didn’t think so, buddy. It is funny how something like that can instill confidence and emotional well being into a person.

Am I just like all the cattle at Wal-Mart every weekend? Am I still searching for a piece of plastic to make me happy? Is my lunch box simply an alternative to the magnanimous credit card or the ever popular breast implant? I would like to think that this sudden realization of an inflated relationship with my plastic lunch box goes deeper than the psychology at play with the other plastic items that I have mentioned.

Am I being too Freudian here? Is it simply a lunch box or is there more? I have not seen someone carry a lunch box since I was a young kid. Every kid at school had one. When did we give them up? Why? Did we, could we have grown up too much to appreciate them? Where are they now? Are they forgotten and in a trash heap outside of town? Were they melted years ago and turned into some piece of junk hanging off the hooks at Wal-Mart? Will I be one of the lucky ones whose mother just put their lunch box away in some cupboard or cardboard box to be found one day?

This lament over a lunch box may seem strange. Others, I hope, will understand and identify with me. I am at the age where I still feel very much like a big kid, but the world around me requires me to be more grown up every day. Perhaps I am just lost in a moment with my childhood lunch box and I want to stay there. That world was easier, simpler. I think I would trade in my house, my car, all the bills and headaches, just to go back to an unopened lunch box that contained all the promise of tomorrow.