Last night, I cut turkey into the shape of a cat. I rolled salami and tortillas into pinwheels and secured them with toothpicks. I packed it all in a $60 lunchbox.

Sixty dollars. My cheeks burn. I hope to God my mother doesn’t read this.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Read about my paralyzing lunch anxiety in On Parenting at the Washington Post.

Did organic rice cat sculptures exist before the internet?