A week ago Wednesday, I got up and packed Graham a delicious, healthy lunch. It consisted of a hot dog, cheddar cheese stick, GoGo Squeeze, banana and juice box. Before you start passing judgement on the nutritional value, please know that it was an uncured turkey hot dog containing zero nitrites. You feel bad now, don’t you? You should.

He didn’t bring home his lunchbox that day (which happens 62.8% of the time), so he ate in the cafeteria on Thursday. The boys skipped school on Friday and were out for Presidents’ Day on Monday. Which brings us to Tuesday…

The boys and I were driving home from a school function around 8:00 pm when Graham mentioned something about lunch. They started talking, and Wells apologized for leaving his lunch box at home. I told him I hadn’t packed lunches but would accept his apology on behalf of the other days he forgot it. I was laughing at my joke when Graham said, “Yes you did. I had a hot dog.” I explained that I had not sent a lunch since the previous Wednesday. He told me that he couldn’t find it that day and ate in the cafeteria instead. He also said something about the lost and found and that his lunch box was in his cubby when he got to school that (now Tuesday) morning.

You know where this is going. I broke into a cold sweat as I began calculating how long that lunch box had been sitting unrefrigerated. Surely my child who regurgitates in his mouth at the mention of mashed potatoes couldn’t eat stinky cheese, rancid meat and a black banana. I mean, there is just no way. So I asked.

“It tasted fine to me.”

Six days. The recommended time for leaving meat at room temperature is two hours. HOLY CRAP SIX DAYS.

I sent my sister a text asking if I should call his doctor. She said he would puke it up soon and that wieners are filled with preservatives. I explained that ours were far superior. She said, “Well that’s what you get for buying those hippie hotdogs.”

I called SK (who was in Las Vegas… of course he was) and told him what happened. He managed to talk me off the emergency room ledge and offered valuable parenting insight. “Have you asked him if he feels sick?”

I mean, how could he not?

But, he didn’t. No vomiting. No stomach pain.

I felt better but decided to consult the internet (always an excellent idea). I googled “My child ate a week old wiener” but the search results were primarily for infant circumcision. It took a few tries, but I finally found what I was looking for… food borne illness, salmonella and death. Boom. I called the pediatrician’s after-hours hotline and explained the situation. The on call health care provider told me it was too late to pump his stomach, as the food had already been digesting for hours. She told me to monitor him closely for GI issues or fever and to call poison control. I asked her if she thought he would be okay to which she responded, “Well, I wouldn’t suggest doing it every week.”

Well, I wouldn’t suggest you saying that to my face because I might punch you in yours.

The lady at poison control was much nicer about the situation, although she probably alerted DHS. She also suggested close monitoring, so I put him in my bed and watched him like a mama velociraptor on t-rex duty. All. night. long.

He woke up the next morning feeling his usual self, aka dying laughing while running through the house with his underwear pulled in his butt crack like a thong.

We have given many thanks to God that Graham did not get sick. It is a miracle that he ate that bacteria buffet and didn’t even get a stomachache. My daddy called him garbage gut which just may be his new nickname. Since the lovely lady suggested not making it a weekly habit, we have a new control in place to prevent it happening in the future.

I will never pack lunches again.

ps- I’ve missed y’all