Dear Lunchlady,

I realize that’s probably not what you’re called any more. Now I’m sure you’re a Pediatric Nutrition Delivery Engineer, Height Challenged Dining Specialist, or maybe a Portion Optimization and Transportation Supervisor. For the sake of brevity, I will be sticking with “Lunchlady.”

If the children’s books are to be believed, I’m certain that you are a really, really nice person, just misunderstood (See Lunch Lady and the Author Visit Vendetta et al). There may have been a time when the lunchlady was the villain, but the pop culture pendulum has definitely swung. How long until blue-skinned, long-tailed Lunchladies 3-D their way through a James Cameron epic?

But I’m not buying it. Or rather, my daughter isn’t buying it. Because, as you have so thoughtfully pointed out, she’s out of lunch money.

On the one “hand,” us parents really do appreciate clear communication from the school, on the other “hand” does it have to be on the kids’ skin. And while the bold, black “send lunch money” stamp leaves little room for doubt, do you worry it might be a little Scarlet Letter-y?

What I really object to, however, is the “full-sleeve” of stamps that my daughter is now sporting. Four stamps, one for each successive day that her balance has been somewhat low, creeping up her arm. That crosses a line. Now you are criticizing not only our family fiscal responsibility, but also our hygiene practices. Where would it stop? The forehead? Stamping her classmates? Stopping by the house to stamp me? I mean, we would eventually bathe the child, but still.

I realize there is no free lunch. Enough with the lunchroom tatts. I relent. Enclosed please find a check.

Sincerely,

Clay Nichols

P.S. Would you mind stamping your chicken quesadilla recipe on my daughters arm? She really likes those.