I had just settled in for a long morning of computer work, Kate Bush on the stereo and a Diet Coke at my elbow, when the phone rang. It was the call every parent hates to receive.

My son had forgotten his lunch.

In the overall scheme of parenting, a forgotten lunch is no big deal. There are much bigger fish to fry: Sex, drugs, and exactly how much Runescape is "too much," to name a few. And I will have to deal with those things, but for me, today, a forgotten lunch is more than just an inconvenience. It immediately brings to mind the question of whether I'm failing as a parent. 

Some moms would simply jump in the Rover, drive down to the school, and drop the sandwich, pretzels, and juice box off at the front desk. But I prefer to dwell in the realm of self-flagellation for as long as possible. 

If I were a "good" parent, my 12-year-old son would be responsible, disciplined, and forward-thinking. 

If I were a "good" parent, I'd have a color-coded checklist next to the front door, making it impossible for any of my progeny to forget ANYTHING, ever. 

If I were a "good" parent, I'd devise a system of natural consequences that would encourage my son to learn to take care of his belongings and be properly organized.

If I were a "good" parent, I would have reminded him to take his lunch with him before he walked out the door.

Apparently, I'm not a "good" parent. As a result, I had momentary angst (I have that a lot). Should I deliver his lunch to him with no penalty, as it was my fault for raising such an irresponsible child? Or should I let him go hungry, seeing as it was his own darned fault? Perhaps I should take him his lunch, but make something he doesn't like? Or deliver it in his sister's Hello Kitty lunchbox, letting him know that I might be willing to make the 20 minute trip to his school, but I wasn't happy about it?

This paralyzed me for a good half an hour. In the end, I decided that it went against every strand of mothering DNA I possess to let my son go hungry. And if I was going to go down to the school anyway, I might as well bring something he'd eat. I wavered on the Hello Kitty lunchbox for a moment, but in the end I decided my son has enough fodder for his future therapist without my adding more. 

I dropped his lunch off in the office, swaddled in a plain brown paper bag. 

But next time I'm reaching for Hello Kitty.