The Juice-Box of Life

August 2025

The Juice-Box of Life: Preschool Memories

Not memories of my preschool, because I did not go to preschool.  Entering Kindergarten was enough of a psycho-emotional traumatic haul for me!

This morning, I asked Dear Husband to try to open a small bottle of apple juice for my breakfast.  I ran the neck under hot water, hoping to pop the seal.  I could more easily wring someone’s pencil neck than pop open that juice bottle.

His big strong hand turned the juice-screw in a second or two.

I wasn’t envious of his power, or powers.  After all, I’d done most of the work, loosening the suction that hermetically sealed the cap onto the bottle.

As I’d held out the jar to him, I was instantly reminded of the little straws that the Montessori Pre-schoolers would hold up for me, and other minder-employees, at Lunch-time.  I thought of those little tykes, and when I first saw the sea of teeny plastic straws in the air, a toxic ocean of polymer that has since been banned in Cal-i-fornia.

They were the ones we were not waiting for, or, in proper English, for whom we were not waiting. Never trust a political slogan using poor grammar.  But, I know, They were doing the best They could, under the hope-and-change circumstances (mission) of crumbling capitalism in this country.  And waiting for The Marxist Revolution.

Yessiree, the Juicy Juice generation has come of age!

These occupier-brats are still the ones demanding their college student loans be paid back by the American Taxpayer, who fronted and footed the bill to begin with — ten to fifteen years ago.  Some of those brats have moved on to occupy the mortgage-gimmick, expecting some sort of taxpayer/parental handout for them to continue living off of the dole, in between rent-a-riot protesting the Evils of the USA.

My memories of that preschool scene are hilarious today.  At the time, they were discomforting.  I was so ignorant of this sector of the age group of my little tykes.  That ignorance was not bliss.

I asked the older “minders” what I was supposed to do with the hand-held in-the-air straw?????

“You poke it into their juice box.”

It took me many moments to fully assess the stupidity of performing this finger manipulative function for a 3-year-old, who, ostensibly, had been enrolled in this high-priced progressive preschool (daycare) to master such tasks as advanced finger manipulation through artistic and aesthetically pleasing means.

I’m still fully assessing that stupidity, on a daily basis, as I observe the Spoiled Socialist Brats of the World Unite!

I am, nonetheless, an optimist.  I figure they’ll be collecting Soche (Social Security) before they figure out how to stick the recycled straw into the sour-grapes juice box of life.