Taco Robot and Awesome Mom


Taco Bell

Today was my crowning achievement of motherhood thus far.

It is not the labor, and delivery-in-the-ambulance.

It is not having raised a reasonably polite, lovely 6-year-old.

It is not having kicked ass as a seriously single single mom for almost 5 years.


What is it?

Not so fast.  Child has decided she likes Taco Bell.  Try as I might, I can’t disabuse her of this notion.

I hate Taco Bell.  I love food, but Taco Bell is not food.  It is cheap, nasty, ridiculous, foul, boring, empty calorie, edible garbage.

But today, nobody else was hungry, and we were out, and we are post-holidays lazy asses, and so we took her to the drive through where she acquired her empty calories, and this.

It is a folder that contains perforated Robot Parts on glossy card stock.


These are the scraps

Child is cool, but she’s not patient.  This was a project that required patience.

Drum Roll, Please

So I sat at the table for an hour and put the thing together for her. I folded all the little scores and carefully inserted tabs, and was generally impressed by the cleverness of the product. Especially the bent robot arms. This is a container design masterpiece.


Fella has been joking that Child needs me to play with her toys for her.

I did resort to tape for attaching the shoulders to the torso, but otherwise used the tabs.

Near the end of the assembly, it occurred to me that Taco Bell should put a notice on its Robot Lab: Not suitable for children under 30.

And now, I am indispensable to Child for Robot Maintenance.

The instructions were useless. There was no text.  I would’ve liked a warning about the small tabs that would render the robot broken during assembly if accidentally folded.

I credit Mrs. Winslow, my art & paper crafts teacher in High School (to whom I affectionately referred as Planet Winslow) with my abilities in this project.

I wonder how many kids and parents jump ship and throw the whole thing in the trash?

It is a project that requires some specialized training.

This kids’ meal toy is not for the faint of heart or the easily annoyed.

Even when my sweet, polite 6-year-old stood at my elbow, breathing her taco breath into my hair, she exacerbated my mild annoyance at this extreme sports style toss-away toy.

I’ve seen the way other parents are toward their kids in the grocery store.  I know that I am mostly a calm reasonable mom.

Like the woman who sued McDonald’s over her piping-hot-coffee-thigh-burn, I suspect that in a few months, a news item will blip across the American Culture radar that says, “Parents Found Guilty of Homicide, Blame Robot Lab, Sue Taco Bell.”