I know this might land me on some sort of “She Shouldn’t Be a Parent” list, but it’s time to address a pressing issue that’s been on my mind: the ridiculousness of post-game snack bags. Seriously, what’s the deal?
Can someone please explain to me why little Timmy absolutely needs a snack after running around for an hour at soccer practice? Is he really going to starve? Did he burn an extraordinary number of calories while avoiding the goal? And do I need to take on yet another task of buying, preparing, and distributing snacks for kids who aren’t even mine? Or is this just another way for me to spend an unnecessary $30?
Every sport my kids have participated in has a rotation for parents to bring snacks and drinks for the team. I could understand this if they were playing in a tournament and missing meals, but that’s not the case here! We’re talking about a 45-minute basketball game—snack required. An hour-long soccer match—snack required. Even little Max’s hockey game that lasts an hour—snack required. Or let’s not forget Emily’s t-ball game that wraps up in five innings—snack required! There is absolutely no need for these kids to have a snack for activities that take less time than it does to watch a couple of cartoons. When they’re younger, they all get a chance to play, so it’s not like your star player is out there the entire time. Even if they were, they don’t need an additional snack!
And let’s talk about the snack guidelines. They must be “healthy” (because what kid wants to munch on an apple after a game?) and allergen-free. I totally get the allergy concerns, so I’m not disregarding them. But seriously—no child is excited about a cheese stick after scoring a goal. To make matters worse, your snack bag is subject to scrutiny—not just by the parents but by the kids! I’ve seen kids turn their noses up at lovingly prepared healthy snacks because they deem them “gross.” Honestly, that child deserves a stern talking to about appreciation.
Who even started this trend? Why does little Bobby need to know that there’s a special bag of “health” waiting for him, only for him to toss it in the trash later?
And don’t even get me started on those elaborate gift bags at major competitions. My daughter does gymnastics, and this year, we decided to include a snack bag for the girls post-meet. To be fair, their meets typically last about four hours, and they do miss a meal. I’m all for giving them something to nibble on while waiting for the award ceremony. After all, when Ella achieves her fourth first place, sweeping all events, it’s only fair she gets a treat.
However, I’ve noticed other gyms come in with extravagant goodies for the competitors. These snack bags are decked out as if royalty is participating! The best part? When little Myra (don’t forget the ‘a’—it’s a big deal) tosses her entire gift bag without a second glance, not even acknowledging the effort that went into it. How about a simple “thank you” before she decides to discard everything?
To the parent who spent more than five minutes on the snack bag, if you have that much time on your hands, I’d love to know where you live. I could use a break, and I’m sure your kids would love to come over to my house. Someone might chime in, “But I just LOVE doing this for my little Ava; she’s always excited to see what I come up with!” This is probably the same child who, when it comes time to buy her first house, will insist on granite countertops, when really she should just appreciate the fact that it’s hers!
Must we revert to a time when kids did chores and homework independently? A time when the only after-game treat was whatever was for dinner? Raise your hand if you received a snack bag after your sporting events in the ‘80s or before. Yeah, that’s what I thought—no hands raised! We survived without these indulgences. No one went hungry; no one fainted from starvation. And guess what? There were snack stands at most events raising funds for schools or leagues. Winning meant a treat or a pat on the back; losing meant nothing. It’s called motivation—it’s called life—it’s called not everyone gets a prize every time.
And yes, little Mary got Hawaiian Punch while I got nothing, and look how well-adjusted I am!