Small matter, or valid concern? Oreos in a kids’ lunchbox have mothers arguing over a biscuit
Starting on 19 August, an internationally viral nine-part series has taken over social media, built around a group of kindergarten mothers, their increasingly chaotic group chat and one seemingly innocent snack.
At the centre of all this drama? The Oreo cookie.
The gist of it: one mother packed Oreos in her child’s lunchbox. This piqued the interest of her daughter’s classmate, now infamously known as “Ava”, who recognised the cookies as something her own mother didn’t allow her to have.
As any five-year-old would, Ava returned home upset, questioning why her friends were allowed Oreos but she wasn’t.
And thus, #OreoGate was born.
The suffix “-gate” comes from the U.S. Watergate scandal of 1972, involving a break-in at the country’s central operational command center and a subsequent illegal cover-up by the then-president’s administration. Since then, the term “-gate” has often been used to describe controversies or internet debates.
OreoGate, scene one: Please stop packing Oreos
Ava’s mum, Michelle, asks the group chat if everyone could “get on the same page” and stop packing Oreos in their children’s lunchboxes.
The concerned mothers ask a reasonable question: Is this because of a food allergy?
When they’re told it isn’t, they immediately go on the defensive. Their logic is essentially: Just because you don’t allow your child to eat Oreos doesn’t mean you get to police what everyone else feeds theirs.
A message I can get behind.
How OreoGate escalated from cookies to kindergarten chaos
In the days that follow, Oreos continue to appear in lunchboxes.
Ava, the Oreo-deprived child at the centre of this international crisis, eventually brokers a snack deal with a classmate and finally gets her hands on the much-coveted cookie.
To the utter horror of her mother, Michelle.
The other mothers then receive an email from the school reading: “We encourage families to choose healthy options where possible; however, what is included in each child’s lunchbox is ultimately at the discretion of parents.”
Michelle interprets this as a show of solidarity from the school. The other mothers, unsurprisingly, focus on the bit that says parents are ultimately in charge of what they pack. Same email. Two wildly different takeaways.
When the teacher gets dragged in
Often, when things can’t be settled between parents, the problem inevitably lands on the desk of the already overloaded teacher.
This is where my opinion begins to waver.
Once planted firmly on the side of the “Oreo mums”, I suddenly find myself sympathising with the teacher, who now has to monitor the children more closely and even keep Ava away from her friends in case she accepts another rogue Oreo.
Is this argument really worth it once children are being asked to stay away from one another over a biscuit?
Michelle continues pleading with the mothers not to pack Oreos.
She even goes as far as looking inside another child’s lunchbox to check whether she has brought Oreos that day.
This invasion of privacy triggers the other mums to create their own “side chat” without Michelle, where they collude to all pack Oreos the next day.
They also begin dreaming up theories about why Michelle is so vehemently anti-Oreo. Nothing too cruel, but let’s just say the scenarios aren’t exactly charitable.
And this is where something that started as a mildly ridiculous parenting disagreement starts feeling slightly more uncomfortable.
The internet reacts to OreoGate
Naturally, the internet is loving every second of it.
Mothers around the world are filming themselves buying Oreos in solidarity with the “Oreo mums”, and every new instalment brings another round of outrage, theories and commentary.
But as more parts were released, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were becoming a little…staged.
And as any true doom-scroller knows, the content itself is only half the drama. You have to head to the comments to understand what the internet is really thinking.
Sure enough, plenty of people shared the same suspicions:
“It’s fake.”
“Obviously scripted, but I’m so invested.”
And essentially: Tell me it’s AI without telling me it’s AI — but also explain why I cannot stop watching. Fake or not, the internet has picked a side.
When does standing your ground become bullying?
The moment that rubbed me the wrong way was when all the mums decided to tag-team Michelle by deliberately packing Oreos.
As humorous as I found the entire saga, I couldn’t look past the fact that it had started to resemble bullying.
Did Michelle have the right to control everyone else’s lunchboxes? Surely not.
Would bending to her every whim necessarily make her a more compassionate and gracious person moving forward? Unlikely.
But on the flip side, is choosing a different biscuit for snack time really the hill we need to die on? Probably not.
And that brings me to the bigger question OreoGate accidentally raises.
What has parenting become?
Growing up, my parents had a phrase they used constantly:
“Aiyah, small matter.”
If I complained that a cousin wasn’t playing nicely with me, or I fell and scraped myself, they would inspect the injury, ask the appropriate questions, give me a hug if required and then de-escalate the entire situation with:
“Aiyah, small matter. You’re fine.” And strangely enough, I was.
I felt seen and heard, but also confident enough to get on with life.
There wasn’t a committee meeting. Nobody started a WhatsApp group. My cousin’s parents weren’t summoned for mediation.
It was simply: small matter, carry on.
When did accommodating children become an expectation?
Accommodations used to be made for children. Increasingly, they seem to be expected.
And therein lies a huge shift in modern parenting, and perhaps part of the reason non-parents sometimes feel resentful towards parents. Understandably so.
I’m happy to prepare a kid-friendly dish when your child comes over. In return, you should probably prepare your child not to jump on my furniture or yank the cat’s tail. Fair trade.
Yet it increasingly feels like a one-sided deal favouring parents.
Some boundaries are completely understandable. Don’t offer someone else’s child food without asking their parents first, particularly when allergies or dietary restrictions may be involved.
Others feel far more imposing.
I was once reprimanded for using the word “kill” in a conversation with a child. For context, we were discussing poaching and endangered animals. The question was, “What is poaching?”
My answer: “It’s when hunters go out to find a specific animal to kill.”
Apparently, “kill” was the problem. But where is the line? Where should compromise begin? And perhaps more importantly: does everything actually require a compromise?
The real parenting lesson from this: sometimes it really is a small matter
At the end of the day, parties last a couple of hours. I’ll probably never have another conversation about poaching with that same child.
And as my own daughter enters Primary 1 next year, if another parent asks me not to pack a particular snack...
Will I snark about it privately to my nearest and dearest? Absolutely.
Will there potentially be an eye roll or several? Almost certainly.
But ultimately?
Small matter lah. Just don’t pack the Oreos.
Jillian Lim is an ex-radio DJ and current embroiderer, trying it all till something sticks.
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