So, being the parent of an active, and usually snacking, 3-year-old who attends pre-school, I’m beginning to feel the strain of a fairly new child predator that threatens to destroy the very fabric of our children’s learning facilities.
Of course, I’m talking about the peanut.
That horrible little jerk is not actually a nut at all. It’s a bean, and has a cool name to go with it: “Arachis hypogaea,” which sounds like a spider planet amid the “Star Wars” saga and has absolutely nothing to do with this column, but I digress.
It seems schools around the nation would like to flick that little bean right out of the classroom.
But don’t we all remember Mr. Peanut? That top hat-wearing, cane-twirling aristo-snack who even wore a monocle to show us that even anaphylactic murderers had to keep it classy back in the day.
Alas, schools and day care programs have chosen to finally keep the children away from this seemingly British protein snack, less they be forced to kick him in the walnuts.
My daughter had a big yellow form notice stapled to her Honey Graham flavored Clif Bar, stating that this item wasn’t allowed because of peanuts. So, being the pest that I am, I scoured the entire package for any peanut-related contamination. The only mention I found was that this treat MIGHT have been manufactured on a machine that MIGHT have also had a bag of peanuts briskly walk past it at some point.
This means that there’s nary a risk of a peanut reaction with this product, it’s just Clif and my daughter’s pre-school covering their collective assets so they don’t get railed in a huge lawsuit if some rampaging monster-child absconds with my daughter’s tasty graham-flavored treat.
Which, I understand. Those companies need to protect themselves. We live in a society that would rather call an attorney and blame someone else than accept any responsibility for their mistakes.
I also understand that all parents have an unwavering duty to protect their children from harm, but at what point do we have to say that the minority is just going to have to suck it up and deal with the fact that PB&J is a national icon of consumption for toddlers.
I’m sorry your child will most likely have to wear a gas mask and play with their alphabet blocks in a bubble, but why punish the rest of a school because your kid can’t keep their grubby hands off my daughter’s sammich?
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries