Although I claimed it would never happen, I knew that in my heart of hearts it would. Eventually. And it did.
Yesterday, Maya ate lunch at McDonald’s.
Yes, I realize that until yesterday Maya was the only 6-year-old in America who hadn’t had the pleasure of eating processed and sub-par fast food in a less than savory environment. But after pondering two approaches to the situation at hand I knew that my options were minimal.
Scenario 1: I question Maya’s Winter Camp coordinator’s decision to take the kids on a field trip to an ice skating rink and then to McDonald’s afterwards. I unsuccessfully hide my annoyance that she won’t reconsider a less offensive lunch alternative. I consequently earn her annoyance and become known as “that uptight mom” among all the other teachers. Maya gets to be known as “that uptight mom’s deprived kid” and teachers alternatively feel sorry for her and dread getting her in their class, knowing that they’ll have to deal with me. Maya inevitably experiences backlash from my actions and then hates me. She drains her therapy fund, can’t function as a normal human being, and consequently lives with us forever.
Scenario 2: I give Maya an apple for breakfast to counteract the big bowl of grease she’ll be eating in a few hours, I hand her a $5 bill with a warning that she should not, under any circumstances, go near a soda fountain, and I feel secure in the knowledge that one meal at McDonald’s is worth not having Maya living with me when she’s 45.
Choices are really just the lesser of two evils in disguise. I realized that today.