She circulates among the masses, alert to the first sign of distress. At the upward shot of a hand, she is there, springing into action. Inserting a hand into her trusty apron, she dispenses vital supplies with lightening speed to the forgetful and the unprepared. Forks. Straws. Napkins. Ketchup. Where there is an innocent child in need, she is there.

The lunchroom nearly spills over with tension and trouble—but no, wait! That’s just Nathan’s milk! Not to worry—milk spills are no match for this dominatrix of domesticity. Mop in hand, chaos is averted for another Monday.

So go about your daily business in peace, fellow mothers. The Aproned Crusader is on the job. Enforcer of the one-more-bite rule. Inspector of the contents of lunchboxes. Patroller of hidden, uneaten sandwiches. Yes, mothers, you can relax. Your child’s lunchtime is safe.

Faster than a child headed to the tetherball tournament. More powerful than your average six-year old girl. Able to open the most stubborn package in a single tear.

But who IS that aproned woman?

It’s a first year teacher… it’s a study hall monitor… it’s an off-duty police officer… 

it’s, it’s, it’s…

(duhn duhn da DUHN)

C A F E T E R I A M O M . . .

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