Can someone explain to me what the appeal is of a frozen breakfast sandwich?
I'm not even talking Jimmy Dean. I'm talking the Walmart brand. Frozen. $3.89 for a box of four sandwiches. They're about a thousand calories each and are no bigger than a plum, plus the eggs are questionable as to whether they're real or just pretend eggs. There's a sausage patty, also questionable as to whether they're made of mystery meat or real pork, which would surprise me.
My kids LOVE these things. And because getting them up in the mornings for school is a process that leaves very little time for healthy breakfasts, they'll usually grab one of these Walmart brand Sausage, Egg and Cheese Biscuits on their way out the door.
Once in a while, when I shop at Walmart (yes, if you've seen weird people at Walmart recently, you may have seen me...especially perusing the holiday clearances)...I will seek out such quickie meals for the kids, so that they have something in their bellies before school. They will usually skip lunch (daughter more so than son, since he has half-day every day and will opt for lunch at home) simply because they don't find the school meals appetizing in any way. I suppose I can't blame them there; MY middle-school cafeteria cook used to serve us slop that looked akin to vomit on a styrofoam tray.
THIS morning, though, my two were arguing over who was going to eat the last "fake" breakfast sandwich. She claims that he ate the last one on a day that there was only one left...(you do the math, two kids, four sandwiches in the box, two sandwiches per day = breakfast on Thursday and Friday mornings)...not sure how it got lopsided - perhaps because on occasion even the microwaveable breakfast didn't sound appeasing to one of them, but this particular morning, there was only one sandwich left in the freezer. And he, before she could go looking for it, ate it. In like, two big 17-year-old size chomps, it was gone.
Swear to God, you would have thought he ate a filet mignon that she'd saved her allowance for months to buy....she lost her shit. She went on for about thirty minutes before school about how much she couldn't stand her brother. There might have been tears. Some foot-stomping. Some choice words screamed at his back when she thought I wasn't paying attention. I vaguely remember shaking my head mumbling something about how the sandwich was now down my son's gullet and there was NOTHING that could be done, so I was going to walk away and drop the issue. Along with making a mental note to buy more of those fucking sandwiches next time I went to Walmart.
Fast-forward to last night - I was putting some groceries away and found the same thing I found that other morning. A LONE SANDWICH. A result of one morning when he'd come upstairs and fallen back asleep on the couch and hadn't eaten his breakfast. (There, that's how it got lopsided...)
So...there's a sandwich, wrapped in the clear cellophane. I couldn't cover it with a package of chicken breasts fast enough. She doesn't pay attention to much, nowadays. She's 11. But she saw that sandwich, clear as day.
"DIBS!" She screeches. "That's MY sandwich! He ate the last one!" Couldn't even tell her she was wrong about that, but I accepted that the sandwich was called for, and that I would guard that sandwich for her.
Fast-forward to this morning. Snow day! No school. Both kids came out of their rooms at just about noon - well rested and hungry. She decided to have a can of Boyardee (another quickie meal that we really shouldn't keep buying) and when he finally came upstairs, he went straight to the freezer and lo and behold, spied the sandwich that his sister had called dibs on. He reached in, thinking he'd struck gold.
It was like slo-mo.
Her eyes got wide.
MY eyes got wide.
It was time to prevent a war. Because if he would have gotten as far as opening that cellophane wrapper, there WOULD have been bloodshed.
"Yoursister'sbeensavingthat." I said to him, real quick.
"Whut?" The clueless teenage look we all know so well.
"Your. sister. has. been. saving. that," I say again, holding my hand out. "Surrender the sandwich."
"Why can't I have it?" he wasn't seeing his sister about to scale the kitchen table and go ape-shit on him. And just picture this, her lips saturated in Boyardee sauce, hair wild, eyes wide. It wasn't pretty.
"Because she's been saving it and she called dibs on it last night."
He rolls his eyes. Sandwich lands into my outstretched palm. Crisis averted. For now.
Time to go to Walmart. But I need the heat wave, first. 20's, I can deal with. Negative temps are NO BUENO!
Hope y'all are staying warm.