Okay, this might sound ridiculous at first—but stick with me. I had one of those days. You know the kind: everything’s going wrong, your emotions are shot, and all you want is to hide under the covers and not talk to anyone. And in that mental mess, do you know what I craved? A grilled cheese sandwich. Not a fancy one, either. I didn’t want truffle butter, artisan bread, or imported cheese curated by a chef with a sleeve tattoo. No. I wanted the basic grilled cheese off the kids’ menu. White bread, pre-sliced American cheese, maybe cut diagonally if someone was feeling generous, and served with apple slices or fries. That’s it. That’s what I needed to feel okay for five minutes.

So when I saw it on the menu—right there beneath crayon doodles and cartoon characters—I asked the waitress if I could order it. Her expression went from polite to confused in a flash. “Um… that’s for kids only,” she said, the same way a teacher might respond if you tried to sneak into recess without a hall pass. And that’s when it hit me: apparently, I’ve aged out of grilled cheese sandwiches. At least, the ones served with a smiley face on the plate.

But why is that a thing? Why is it frowned upon for adults to want something off the kids’ menu? Honestly, not everyone wants a full-size entree every time they eat out. Sometimes you’re just not that hungry. Maybe you’re taking meds that kill your appetite. Maybe you’re stressed and just want the food version of a soft pillow. Or maybe, just maybe, you’re trying to avoid spending $18 on a meal you won’t finish. And let’s talk about that price for a second—because have you seen the cost of fast food lately? A “value” meal can easily run you $17 if you’re not paying attention. Meanwhile, the kids’ menu is over there offering a grilled cheese and fries for six bucks, not judging anyone, just waiting for someone to say yes.

And you know what? Kids’ menu food is actually really good. Chicken nuggets? Still a classic. Buttered noodles? A hug in food form. PB&J? That sandwich has seen people through heartbreaks and finals week. These meals are dependable. They don’t try to impress. They don’t come with foam, garnish, or a sauce you can’t pronounce. They’re just… easy. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

Of course, I understand why some restaurants have to say no. Kids’ meals are usually loss-leaders—they’re priced low to bring in families. If everyone starts ordering them, the numbers stop working. Plus, it creates confusion. One server says yes, the next says no, and suddenly someone’s writing a one-star Yelp review titled, “Denied My Dino Nuggets and Dignity.” And let’s be honest—adults complicate everything. We want substitutions. “Can I get fruit instead of fries? Gluten-free bread? Organic ketchup?” All while the kitchen is slammed trying to feed a brunch crowd. I get why that’s a pain.

But beyond the economics and logistics, there’s this weird societal thing where once you hit adulthood, you’re expected to eat “serious” food. Something grilled, seared, or finished with a demi-glace. Something you can pair with a dry white wine. If you dare admit that you just want a grilled cheese or some nuggets, people treat you like you’re immature. But let me ask: what’s more adult—ordering a $24 salmon and pushing it around your plate out of obligation, or paying $7 for something you actually enjoy and finishing it with a smile? To me, that’s the real win.

Some places are catching on. They’re offering “small plates” or “light bites”—basically the adult version of a kids’ meal, just dressed up with different language. And some restaurants will let grown-ups order from the kids’ menu for a couple bucks extra, which feels like a fair deal. We get our comfort food, they still make a profit, and no one has to feel weird about it.

What I’d love, though, is just a little honesty. If you don’t allow adults to order kids’ meals, say so on the menu. That way I can save myself from feeling embarrassed for even asking. But don’t shame people for wanting it. Because let’s face it—this isn’t really about grilled cheese. It’s about feeling overwhelmed, needing comfort, and searching for a little control when the world feels like too much.

So the next time you want the kids’ menu, go ahead and order it. Ask for the fries. Ask for the apples. Ask for the crayon if you need one. Because joy has no age limit—and sometimes, a triangle-cut sandwich with a side of ketchup is exactly what adulthood calls for.