There exists in this world many forms of torture. And torture devices. Human beings can get quite creative. There are thumbscrews.The infamous rack.
An Iron Maiden. Does listening to the band Iron Maiden count as torture as well?
And now, I would like to submit the latest method of torture. It's called a table. With an attached stool.
I sit in this particular torture device for an hour each month during my PTA Board meeting. And when the meeting is over, I attempt to stand. I try to haul myself to my feet. But, my rear has turned to lead. And my legs start to tingle and burn as the blood trys to circulate. My knees have locked into a position that prohibits standing when they were shoved under this table. And those said knees are having alignment issues with my hips, which are precariously floating around the stool. Because you see this stool.And how (not) wide that seat is?
Well, I won't torture you with a companion photo of my derriere, but let's just say a stool for each cheek might be sufficient.
The table and attached stool may be a lovely seat for my seven year old, but for me...not so much.
And then, to prove that I am a glutton for punishment, I stayed at my torture stool. AND had lunch with Madalyn. In the school cafeteria.
It's a pretty special ocassion to have a parent come to lunch. We get to sit at a special table. And when the monitors are telling the kids to be quiet - those of us at the special table can ignore them. Best of all, Madalyn got to invite a friend to eat with her at the
torture special table.Here is Madalyn's lunch. Apples. Sun chips. Chocolate milk. And grilled cheese. What? What's that? Are you asking where IS that grilled cheese? It's sealed in a plastic pouch. See - over on the right side of her tray. Really. They don't make the grilled cheese at the school. It comes in all it's prepackaged goodness.
Another bonus for parent lunches. I buy ice cream.
Yeah. Let's NOT do a name that photo contest with this one.
And when lunch was over, I inched my knees out from under the table. Rubbed my legs to get the circulation going. Pinched my hips to remind them that they were still attached. Stomped my feet to be sure that I could feel them. Made sure that I had everyone's attention while I hauled my tush off the round stool. And I finally stood up. And seriously wondered if the CIA had started investigating the possibilities to be found at my local elementary school.
So, what about you? Did you find school lunches to be yummy or pure torture? Do you partake of school lunches now? Volunteer at school? Participate in any other forms of torture?
Theme song: Sting - King of Pain