I am convinced that the school lunch isn’t doing Ferdinand any favors. Mostly because he isn’t eating it. “Ferd” I said, “would you rather bring your lunch?” “Yea.” “What will you eat then?” “Two chocolate chip cookies, or you can give me chocolate milk.” “I can’t do that Ferd.” “I love potato chips.”
If he could, he would eat sliced meat, or cold cheese sandwiches like the rest of them. But they sceeve him out. He can’t eat soup, pasta, or anything rice related in a packed lunch, because he says his friends will make fun of him.
I made a gallete, filled it with peanut butter, swirled in a little nutella, and laid pretzel sticks across the top. Ferdinand gave me the two thumbs up and shoved it into his backpack. On the way home, he told me that I could only make a peanut butter, pretzel gallete again at home. “They laughed,” he said. This morning I got up to make a salad of peeled potatoes cut into tiny squares, chic peas and corn off the cob, with just a little olive oil and salt. On the side, I toasted pine nuts and pumpkin seeds. “Look Ferd”, I said, “it’s a totally normal salad.” He got all choked up and tried not to cry. “Don’t worry, I said, we’ll come up with something.”