I Wish I Were an Oscar Meyer Weiner

When my day is slow I always enjoy a visit to the lunch room. The mood and antics of the kids are guided by the daily menu items. Today the culinary experience was hotdogs. All the little kids were munching away on their lunch fare. Most of the hotdogs were first ripped free of their buns then peeled or shredded before being dipped in ketchup with reckless abandon. The wheat buns, albeit nutritious, were described as “brown and nasty”. Perhaps they looked too much like the crust on white bread which kids so often reject.

Food not eaten often becomes the focus of play. I watched as industrious little hands rolled all sizes of wheat bun marbles. For the most part the wheat bun marbles were rolled around the lunch table or back and forth between the groups of kids. Soon this game became a bit dull and wheat bun marbles started flying through the air. I asked myself, does this happen when I am not around, or am I the catalyst for such events? The cafeteria monitor, lifting an accusatory eyebrow at me, was quick to crack down on the missile launchers. The culprits were shuffled off to sit at tables by themselves pointing fingers and blaming others the whole way.

After the monitor left the rest of the little kids giggled. As penance for something I did not start but for which I was indirectly blamed, I sat down with the group to explain table manners.

One little boy replied to my lecture, “Doctor, I am a good boy. I don’t hurt no one with those brown balls.”

“That’s a nurse,” corrected a girl. “We call her nurse not doctor. Nurse, he’s new in class. We have to show him everything cause he’s a boy.”

I then made the fatal move in our verbal chess match. “Well boys are pretty smart,” I replied.

The table erupted with girl versus boy rhetoric, who’s smarter, who’s stronger. I glanced over my shoulder to check the location of the cafeteria monitor. She was off on the other side of the room. I made a quick exit from the group discussion I started before blame once again fell upon me.

Five tables away, a safe enough distance from the escalading debate I had started, I sat down with another group of kids. These kids were all business at this table. Hotdogs were being consumed and the consensus was that they were really good. I did a quick survey. I asked the kids if they knew how hotdogs were made.

Girl: “They role chicken up.”

Girl: “I think they put popcorn in them.”

Boy; “I don't know about that stuff yet.”

Girl: “I think there is something that comes outta trees thats in them.”

Boy: “There's pork in them from the chickens.”

Boy: “Do they make any with candy?”

Girl: “No, I think its all good stuff.”

Boy: “I wish I could eat hot dogs every day and try all kinds of them.”

The girl versus boy debate was now three tables away and moving in my direction. Staying low to the ground, under the cafeteria monitor’s radar, I head for a side exit. I was no longer hungry for a hotdog today.