Once your kid enters elementary school, they are quickly introduced to the world of ‘Box Tops.’ I can almost guarantee that on the very first day, the teacher introduces herself, assigns desks, and then immediately brainwashes our children about the significance of THE BOX TOP!
“Mom! It’s for our school!”
“Box Tops will help us get a new gym!”
“Box Tops will take us to Sea World!!”
“Box Tops SAVE THE WORLD!!”
These are just a few of the (potentially exaggerated) statements my child has exclaimed while we navigate the grocery aisles.
Now, before you label me as a neglectful parent who doesn’t want to support her child’s school (I might be a bit difficult, but I do support my child’s education), let me clarify my stance… My child has a perplexing skin condition. Doctors have been scratching their heads trying to figure out what’s causing her itchy eruptions. I’ve exhausted countless funds on everything from conventional medicine to alternative therapies.
Essential oils? Check. Steroid creams? Check. Blood tests? Check. Food allergies? CHECK.
Have you ever spotted these Box Tops on organic products? I’ve searched every store and found them on a mere handful of organic items. Just FOUR. The best remedy for my little scratchy one is sticking to an organic diet, which is both annoying and pricey. Yet, she’s my child, and I genuinely care about her comfort, so organic it is for our family.
Organic = No Box Tops
No Box Tops = AWFUL MOTHER WHO DOESN’T WANT HER CHILD TO GO TO SEA WORLD!
It feels like General Mills and Sea World are plotting against me. I can’t help but think that Sea World must have telepathically sensed my aversion to visiting after watching Blackfish, thus launching their campaign to ensnare me with the dreaded Box Tops.
In an effort to not be a total jerk of a parent, I’ve resorted to making trips to Costco to buy items that come with Box Tops but won’t irritate my child’s skin — like Ziploc bags. Each Costco run, we stockpile enough Ziploc bags to store about 6,000 sandwiches, and we promptly destroy each box as soon as we get home. My daughter then takes her 12 Box Tops to school the next day, and all is well in the world. If a Ziploc bag shortage occurs, just call me; I’ve got you (and the entire continental United States) covered for years.
Lately, I’ve realized I don’t have the storage space for any more crushed Ziploc boxes. So, I’ve upped my game and started hunting for Box Tops on eBay! Brilliant, right? Currently, I’m in a bidding war with another mom for 500 Box Tops. I’m in the lead at $42.00.
After placing my ‘highest bid’ on these cardboard treasures that seem to be worth their weight in gold, I investigated the actual value of a Box Top.
TEN CENTS.
TEN. FREAKING. CENTS.
Had I known that each package I intentionally buy because of that ‘Box Top’ only translates to a ten-cent donation, I’d just hand my kid a dime every time we pass a cereal box with a Box Top on it. Honestly, wouldn’t it be simpler to give your child eight dimes whenever you go grocery shopping?
No need to answer that; I already know.
Since I lost the bidding match with BoxTopQueen911 on eBay, I’m now pulling out the wrinkled ‘in case of emergency’ twenty-dollar bill from my wallet, heading straight to the bank, and asking for exactly two hundred dimes. That should last me for at least a year, which means two hundred Box Tops.
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Summary:
Navigating the world of Box Tops can be quite the challenge for parents, especially when health considerations like dietary restrictions come into play. This humorous take on the obsession with Box Tops highlights the absurdity of their actual value and the lengths parents will go to support their children’s schools.