A frequent critique of today’s youth is their perceived fragility. Many argue that they are overly pampered and ill-prepared for the realities of adulthood. While I find this perspective somewhat irritating and unjust, I also see some truth in it. I am grateful that my children have been spared from experiences like war, hunger, and serious fears—aside from maybe a fear of spiders. However, I worry that when genuine challenges do arise, they might be ill-equipped to face them. And what’s one thing that may not be readily available when they need it? Snacks.
Yes, parents, this is a genuine issue. The incessant demand for a snack to appear every 30 minutes is cultivating a mindset in our children that snacks are not only meals but essential to their survival.
I’ve begrudgingly adapted to the trend of post-game and post-practice snacks. You know the drill: If your child participates in any sport or activity that lasts longer than a brief moment, you’re expected to sign up to provide snacks for the team one week. I still don’t understand how or why this became a norm. Back in my day, we played our hearts out for hours and got a few Cheerios at most—if that. But here we are in 2016 suburbia.
The expectations around snacks continue to evolve. Just when I thought I was on top of it by bringing Gatorade and cookies, I was introduced to the snack bag phenomenon. After my 3-year-old’s weekly “game”—and I use that term loosely—he’s now given a bag filled with a juice box and at least two snacks like pretzels and fruit gummies. A snack bag for kids who mostly stand around and pick their noses while waiting for the game to end. But fine, I accepted that too.
Then came the day I dropped my 5-year-old, Lily, off at art camp. This camp lasts 90 minutes, is indoors, and conveniently scheduled between breakfast and lunch—when the concept of snacks should be a distant thought. Upon checking in, the instructor greeted me with, “You can put her snack on the counter there.”
“What? I need to bring a snack for her?” I asked, bewildered.
“Well… you don’t have to, but you can if you want,” the instructor replied.
I looked over and saw a lineup of nine snacks ready for the kids. There were ten kids in class. You do the math. Although I didn’t think Lily needed a snack—she had just eaten breakfast minutes ago—I also didn’t want her to feel left out. Especially since she’s my only daughter, often trapped in between her older brother’s impressive activities and her younger brother’s tantrums.
“There’s a vending machine downstairs if you want to get her something,” the instructor suggested.
Okay, I thought. So I checked the vending machine, which only accepted cash in this digital age. Of course, my purse was devoid of any cash. But I wasn’t ready to give up. I figured there must be some change lurking in the depths of my car, buried under dirty shoes and granola bar wrappers.
The boys and I embarked on a heroic quest, digging under the seats and managing to unearth a few nickels stuck to the carpet by old fruit roll-ups. One of the kids found a quarter, but our excitement was short-lived when we discovered it was a Chuck E. Cheese token. After a determined search, we finally gathered enough change to buy their sister a snack. Success!
We spent an hour driving around since we didn’t have enough time to go home, then returned to camp just in time for pick-up. Lily bounced out, beaming with joy, clutching her vending machine popcorn that she hadn’t even had time to enjoy.
Tomorrow, I’ll pack a “real snack” for her 90-minute art camp. Fingers crossed that the craft of the day will be a “Mom of the Year” necklace, because I could really use one.
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In summary, the modern obsession with snacks is creating expectations in children that may hinder their ability to face real-life challenges. The constant availability of snacks is fostering a belief that they are a necessity, potentially undermining resilience in kids.