Okay, I know this might sound silly—maybe even borderline ridiculous—but hear me out. I had a rough day. One of those nothing-is-going-right, emotionally-drained, please-just-let-me-disappear days. And all I wanted was a grilled cheese sandwich. Not the upscale, artisanal version served on sourdough with truffle butter and imported cheddar.

No, I wanted the humble, no-frills grilled cheese from the kids’ menu. You know the one—white bread, probably pre-sliced cheese, maybe cut into triangles if they’re feeling fancy, served with apple slices or a handful of fries. I saw it nestled under cartoon mascots and crayon doodles and thought, “That’s what I need today.” So I asked the waitress for it. She blinked at me like I’d asked to borrow her lipstick. “Um… that’s for kids only,” she replied with the kind of tone reserved for rule-breakers at a trampoline park. That’s when it hit me—apparently, there’s an age restriction on grilled cheese sandwiches now. Fantastic. But it got me thinking: why is it so taboo for adults to want something from the kids’ menu?

Not everyone has the appetite for a family-size lasagna at 2 PM. Some people are on medications that affect their hunger. Others just want something light and easy. Or maybe they crave beige, soft comfort food—the culinary equivalent of a weighted blanket. And then there’s money. Let’s not pretend price isn’t a factor. A fast food receipt can easily tip into the $17 range these days, leaving you questioning every choice that led you to this overpriced combo meal. Meanwhile, the kids’ menu offers a $6 grilled cheese with fries sitting there quietly, asking for nothing but a second chance. If it’s cheaper, it’s what I want, and I’ll actually finish it—why wouldn’t I go for that? And I’m not even sorry to say this—some of the foods on the kids’ menu are genuinely great. Chicken nuggets? Timeless. Buttered noodles? A silent hero. PB&J? The emotional support sandwich of champions.

These are foods with no ego. No reduction sauces. No abstract foam. Just simplicity. I do understand, though, why some restaurants don’t want adults ordering from the kids’ menu. It’s not personal. Kids’ meals are often priced at a loss—designed to bring families in, not make a profit. If adults start ordering them regularly, the restaurant’s bottom line takes a hit. Plus, there’s the inconsistency factor. One server lets it slide, another enforces the rules, and suddenly there’s a Yelp review titled “They Denied Me My Dinosaur Nuggets” getting traction.

And let’s not forget the complications. Adults love to customize. “Can I get apples instead of fries? Can the nuggets be grilled instead of fried? Can it come on gluten-free bread?” Meanwhile, the kitchen is slammed with brunch orders and now has to fulfill a bespoke toddler meal for a grown-up. I get it—it’s annoying. But still. There’s also a strange social pressure around the whole thing. Like once you turn thirteen, you’re no longer allowed to eat small, simple meals. Adults are expected to order something “serious”—a steak, maybe, or a dish with a wine reduction.

Something expensive, complicated, and at least five syllables long. And if you admit that all you want is a side of nuggets? You lose imaginary adult points. But really, what’s more mature: ordering the $24 salmon and pushing it around your plate, or getting the $7 grilled cheese and enjoying every bite of it? Some restaurants have started to bridge the gap by offering “light bites” or “small plates”—which, let’s be honest, are just grown-up euphemisms for kids’ meals. And a few even let adults order from the kids’ menu with a $2 upcharge, which feels like a fair compromise. They keep the business running, and we get the comfort food we want without the side-eye. In the end, maybe the solution is clarity.

Just say it clearly on the menu—yes or no. If adults can’t order kids’ meals, post it. But don’t make people feel weird for asking. Sometimes you don’t want artisanal truffle fries. Sometimes, you want food shaped like a dinosaur, served with a side of joy and maybe a crayon. Because really, this isn’t about sandwiches. It’s about choice, comfort, affordability, and that tiny slice of control we’re all reaching for when life feels a bit much. So if you ever feel the urge to order the kids’ meal, do it. I’ll be right there with you—dipping my nuggets in honey mustard and coloring outside the lines.