Unwrapped
A study says we waste 26 days every year. It's more than that when you count the time we spend holding Popsicles to the sun.
My wife and I have a lease-option on three children currently living under our care, and the oldest, Hank, has begun to accept responsibilities once prohibited in a sensible adult’s home.
Our children eat cereal for breakfast because, apparently, we hate them. A bowl of Apple Jacks has 15 grams of sugar. Cap’n Crunch has 15.6 grams. We may as well hand them a glass of milk with a bag of Hershey’s Kisses (2.5 g) and call it good. (“Part of a complete breakfast!” Remember that scam?)
In a groggy-morning moment I can only describe as the fog of war, Hank showed me an empty box of cereal and asked if I’d open a new one.
“You can do it.”
Silly me.
Hank attacked the box of sugar like squirrels at a bird feeder – cardboard shrapnel everywhere. And that was the easy part.
I’m not sure there are many actions more consequential in a home full of children than opening the bag inside a cereal box. It’s like those miniature cartons of milk we were handed in the lunch line: Don’t pull the top open in a perfect “V” and you may as well pour the milk directly on your shirt.
For the next two weeks, when our children asked for a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, our dog ate more from the floor than actually made it to the bowl.
You may call me a horrible parent for making my son open a box of diabetes, but what you don’t know is that I was preparing him for adulthood, where he will struggle for the entirety of his life opening bags and boxes and Fort Knox plastic.
In 1969, a so called “product engineer” created a demonic drink called Capri Sun. We do not buy Capri Suns for our children because I have neither the patience nor the ability to place a dull piece of plastic straw into a hole that does not exist.
That doesn’t mean my children don’t bring these wretched drinks home – normally after a sporting event in which the snack cooler carries much more importance than the final score. (Parenting Tip #493: Cut the drink bag in the top-right corner and pour it in a cup. This will ensure your children do not drink it.)
Have you ever stopped to consider how much time you spend in a given day unwrapping things in your home? The mail. Peeling the glue off a fresh roll of toilet paper. Iceberg lettuce.
In 1894, the Burpee Seed Co. “invented” iceberg lettuce. In their quest to package the malnourished head of leaves, they placed it in a plastic bag and then stuck a piece of Scotch tape to it and threw it in a box.
To be fair, I have no idea how they packaged the lettuce 129 years ago, but in my extended life, the technology has not changed once. And not once have I ever, successfully, removed the piece of tape and left the plastic bag intact. No, I just rip the bag open and then fold it back over like a toddler trying to wrap a present, which ensures the “vegetable” will turn to brown slime in the next 24 hours.
But why are we talking about healthy food? In the summer months, my children enjoy the artificial coloring of Popsicles. It also happens they do not, particularly, care for half the flavors inside the frozen box. And it also happens to be true that, scientifically, it is impossible to determine the flavor of a Popsicle until you have opened the opaque packaging.
Each summer, millions of parents around the globe can be found holding popsicles against the backdrop of the sun. They are not doing this to warm the icy treat; they are simply trying to avoid selecting yet ANOTHER red Popsicle.
Just throwing this out there in case the aliens currently flying around our country happen to read: If you could kindly swap the iceberg lettuce packaging department with the folks at the Popsicle factory, we’d stop throwing away so many red Popsicles.
Speaking of rotting teeth, at some point the brains at Wrigleys decided packs of gum should include a wrapping of cellophane. Allegedly, there is a microscopic tab at one end of the pack that allows you to then access the second wrapping before unwrapping the actual piece of gum.
If you, or anyone you know, have been involved in successfully finding the tab on this cellophane, could you go ahead and tell the world where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, as well?
There’s a study from the UK suggesting the average person wastes 26 days each year. So, basically, the month of February, which feels about right.
Assuming we can trust the Brits (they still haven’t learned the correct pronunciation of “schedule,” after all), and assuming my son lives to the age of 85, that means he will waste 2,210 days of his life (more than six years).
Most of that will happen opening packages. Which is why I’ve encouraged my children to live life like squirrels at a bird feeder. Right after they eat their Hershey’s Kisses.
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If you’ve got an extra few minutes and want to read how my two boys once had a bright idea for squirrels, here’s a column from four years ago that still makes me laugh. This, also, will be the first chapter of my book - if I ever write one.