I made many parenting mistakes. One of the biggest was falling in love with Lunchables.

It was infatuation at first sight.

I spotted it in the deli section while looking for lunch meat for my kid. My eyes locked onto a colorful rectangular package. It was an entire school lunch in one tidy container: entrée, sides, dessert, and even a drink.

Finally, someone understood the challenges of single-parenting.

My son loved Lunchables too. Just open the refrigerator and grab lunch-to-go. There were endless options: Lunchables with Drink, Lunchables with 100% Juice, Lunchables without Drink, and the ultimate oxymoron—Lunchables Organic.

And they looked beautiful compared to my sad homemade lunches.

Lunchables were OCD geometric perfection: triangle cheese slices, circular bologna, and perfectly rectangular crackers. It was Lego-style food assembly—Turkey and Cheddar Stackers, Ham and American Stackers, Bologna and Cheese Stackers.

I was smitten.

But like many relationships built on passion, reality eventually arrived.

After a few weeks, the bright light of my grocery bill made me realize that Lunchables were a very expensive partner.

So we broke up.

Still, I longed for those glorious days. I tried substitutes, but they were sloppy seconds. Nothing matched the elegance of the original.

Eventually I attempted a Dr. Frankenstein solution and tried to create my own lunch creature.

I used cookie cutters to transform bologna into festive shapes. I hacked cheddar cheese into bite-sized pieces. I bought Ritz crackers and stacked the components into something resembling a meal.

The result looked like a science project gone terribly wrong.

One evening, while packing my son’s lunch, I stole one of his Chips Ahoy cookies. As I experienced chocolate bliss, inspiration struck.

What about adding chocolate chips to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

I sprinkled a handful of chocolate chips on top of the peanut butter.

The PB&J became the PB&JCC.

It was glorious. Proof of a higher power.

My invention was immediately embraced. The Lunchables faded into history. The PB&JCC became such a hit that my son’s lunch-table friends requested extra sandwiches.

My creature lives.