She: You know I like going to Koss’ games, but I think I’m over the whole snack thing.

Z: You’re a sick and twisted spoilsport. Besides, you love snacks.

She: I like pretty little cheese tidbits to go with my wine. But why must every single soccer, baseball, basketball and chess game be celebrated with a mini-party of junk food?

Z: You’re beginning to sound dangerously un-American. And you like parties.

She: When there’s wine or margaritas. But for kids’ sports, isn’t the game itself enough? Why must there be snack?

Z: Because they’re children. If they run around picking daisies and doing cartwheels — or maybe playing sports — for an hour, then they had better be fed. Otherwise, they may starve and die.

She: The worst is the four o’clock games. The game ends at five, and then it doesn’t matter what snack you get the kids, ‘cause all the parents are going to be annoyed that their kids aren’t hungry for dinner.

Z: That’s why I like to bring doughnuts to those games. And Coke.

She: It’s out of control. Next thing you know, the mothers will be sewing themselves cheerleading outfits and dancing on the sidelines with pompoms — for the math superbowl.

Z: Sweet. Time to start studying math.

She: It sounds good, but it’s really very complicated.

Z: Only if you make it that way.

She: When it’s your turn to be snack mom, you have to remember to bring your kid, his ball, cleats and shin guards, a camera, sunscreen, lip gloss and chairs. On top of that, you’ve got an ice chest filled with drinks and fruit for the half-time snack, and bags filled with salty or sweet snacks for the after-game snack. Plus napkins for the one fastidious kid who won’t wipe the watermelon on his shorts, and a bag for the trash. And, of course, I had to bring scissors to help open the packaging. It’s crazy.

Z: Doughnuts and Coke are much easier.

She: Then there are the extra snacks you need to have on hand.

Z: For what?

She: It doesn’t matter how many drinks and snacks you bring, the number of brothers and siblings and friends always exceeds the amount of food, and I refuse to be the mom who made that poor little girl cry because we didn’t have an extra red Gatorade for her.

Z: Red Gatorade?

She: Koss likes the yellow but insists we bring the red, too, because that’s what some of his teammates like.

Z: I love that red is the flavor of something. The only thing that tastes better is blue.

She: I don’t want to be the Grinch who cancels snack time, but I wish someone would step up and bring an end to the madness.

Z: We were one of the first to stop giving out those stupid goodie bags at birthday parties.

She: The ones with the plastic toys that litter your back seat for seven years and the candy that tastes like sweet plastic?

Z: Big bag o’ useless crap. I’m pretty sure it was a conspiracy by landfill owners who were getting nervous about all this recycling.

She: Sounds like a good idea, but I don’t know if I have the cojones to stop bringing snack. It’s different.

Z: Why?

She: Because the one time you don’t bring it could be the one time that they actually need it. I could be responsible for the whole team losing.

Z: On the other hand, you may prevent a few kids from getting diabetes.

She: Sure, but is it really worth the risk?

Z: Yes, dear.

Should sports snacks be abolished? Tell She and Z at leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.