For the most part, moms who bring in food for their kids and their classmates to share do so because they think it’s a special treat. They think it adds to their child’s learning experience. They believe they are doing a good thing.
But for “Karen parents?” There’s a devious, maniacal ulterior motive fueled by a compulsive narcissistic need for attention that can only be quenched by sucking the life force out of a classroom of innocents. Usually elementary school age children are the target because children that young are often distracted with Karen’s preferred Hansel and Gretel “look over here!” goody maneuver and never realize they’re being used as an energy conduit to fuel Karen’s insatiable need for attention and relevance.
What Karen doesn’t have the situational awareness, objectivity, or humility to know is— her child’s teacher can’t stand Karen. Karen’s presence is intrusive and disruptive to the entire school day, and now that teacher will have to spend even more time she doesn’t have to wrangle in 25 tiny turbo machines because Karen decided today was $60 cupcake day (because Karen ALWAYS mentions the price of things).
Karen will make a BIG deal about bringing in her sweet treats before, during, and after the event, often fishing for ‘atta-girls’ and waiting for the teacher to commend her for being such a committed mommy helper as if she were single-handedly saving a child from skull diving off the monkey bars.
Karen will completely hijack the class, interrupting the lesson and insisting on passing out the napkins and cupcakes right now, placing one on each child’s desk. She chastises those eager to pick at their new cupcake from eating until she’s finished because Karen is a hormonally imbalanced troll who only knows one highway– hers.
And of course Karen will choose her “baby Karen” princess as the leader to sing the Happy Birthday song, or to practice her mini-me hyper-fixated controlling mannerisms on the entire class (because the kid can’t catch a break at home or at school).
And when Karen is completely satisfied with the attention she has garnered and most all the excitement has been vacuumed out of the room, she will allow the class to eat their little cupcakes while the teacher stands in the corner aghast and speechless.
It is at that moment that Karen will close the plastic cupcake container, shove it into the miniature trash bin before her squeaky Birkenstocks take her out of the classroom as she blows kisses and “your welcomes” at the kiddies leaving the teacher to the horrific aftermath and Karen feeling like the Queen of Corn at the autumn harvest festival.
It’s not like it’s hard enough trying to get one child to focus. But now we’ve got little Tommy in the corner spinning in place like a sidewinder missile caught in a karma kaleidoscope of regret and nausea.
And another unidentified child lying face down unconscious in a sugar coma drooling liquid buttercream and saliva icing snot bubbles on the carpet.
While the poor kid allergic to gluten, sugar, and all forms of joy sadly watches the dysfunctional gaiety hoping one day for a miracle so she too can get “chocolate wasted.”
But how sweet of you to bring in JoJo Siwa rainbow sugar grenades to throw at the kiddies so that the teacher will have to call in FEMA thirty minutes later to manage the disaster area you created because it wasn’t enough to be a normal mom. You had to be a “cool mom.”
No one wants your $60 cupcakes, Karen. We can barely tolerate your entitlement.