Although we've come, to the end of the bento...still I can't just not post.

Score if you know the song that title just murdered. Bonus points if you owned the matching flannel. Ohhh, that threw you off.

I made the last bento of the school year this morning. Sniff. And I made the second to the last bento of the school year yesterday morning but didn't get around to properly memorializing it. Where to start, where to start...

Yesterday, I sent the munchkin off with a veritable zoo full of teeny tiny bologna sandwiches. Also, his first ever Babybel. I took care to give him a mini-tutorial in the morning lest we live out the terrifying vision of him taking a big honking bite of wax and pitooooeying it all over his fellow classmates, sparking an epic pukefest of Stand By Me proportions.

Also received further confirmation that the child is a near exact replica of Mom in many ways. My tweet the other day:

I wish all my snacks came in little red, wax wheels. Expand, Babybel peeps. What else can you stuff in a circle?

His reaction last night:

I liked it. What else comes in a circle?

Awesome.

For today, he asked for what he calls dumplings. What I call gyoza. What his father calls pot stickers. We should get together on that one. He also asked for fish shaped onigiri, preferably with a dog face. I am nowhere near adept enough to halve a seaweed dog face on a fish profile. But, I appreciated the confidence nonetheless. He'll peel off these non-dog faces in exactly the same manner as he'd peel off the dog faces and really nothing is lost in the switch.

I added a little turnip kim chee on the side and a container full of dipping sauce - rice vinegar, sesame oil, soy sauce and that chili garlic stuff with the green lid that looks like it might be made by the same people that make Rooster Sauce but the writing is all in Vietnamese (or something) so really I couldn't say. He has strict instructions to allow his teacher to pry open the sauce tupperware lest we live out the terrifying vision of dipping sauce sprayed all over his fellow students while they clutch their eyes and shriek as the hot chilis burn through to their brains.

He was just starting to get as into the bentos as Mom. Ok, not as into them as me. That's probably not logistically possible. But, a little into them. And now, we have just enough summer ahead of us to get him right back to whatever, Mom. So, that's cool.