Kids can get cream-filled Popsicles with their school lunch these days.

Meatballs are now on the menu, as well.

Things have changed since the ‘80s, when the choices were rectangular pieces of pizza that might have been good if they were tasteless, fried burritos and limp french fries.

At my kids’ Pasco County school this week was a semi-regular event called Dads’ Day Lunch, where dads are encouraged to observe and interact with their offspring during part of their daily routine. (That also did not happen in the lunchrooms of my youth.)

Although my kids take their lunch to school (their mother is so thrifty, I sometimes think she can shape-shift into her dream man, financial guru Clark Howard), but I was able to see what the other kids ate.

The Popsicles, and small-but-realistic-looking meatballs, weren’t the only things that looked good. I saw sliced-turkey sandwiches, lots of fresh-looking produce, tuna and whole-grain pizza, among other items that could be washed down with 100 percent fruit juice.

Observing all that was just part of the fun.

Today, I got to sit with my third-grader, The Adman, who elected to eat at the “parents’ table” rather than with his buddies. I’d like to think it was more because he wanted to talk to me, not hide me. Unlike his dad, The Adman is a gregarious little fellow who delivered at least one high five to a passing kid and pointed out his friends I hadn’t met yet.

Since his class doesn’t eat until after 1 p.m., the cleaning crew was folding up tables and mopping around everyone throughout the 30-minute period, but all their racket was a whisper compared to the nightclub-level decibels I experienced the day before, when I joined Two Rocks, The Adman’s older brother, for his 11:40 a.m. feeding.

A fifth-grader, Two Rocks is one to absorb his environment silently. He’s not exactly anti-social, but he doesn’t seem to like crowds any more than his old man.

On a bench outside, we talked about raccoons and movies (he wants to see “Public Enemy” with James Cagney) and other stuff.

At the end of his lunch period we walked back inside, where his class was lined up to go to the playground. In front of his friends, Two Rocks pointed to a minute bug on the “Hello, My Name Is Geoff Fox” sticker on my shirt.

I looked down just as he squashed it with the tip of his index finger, smearing a brown diagonal line across the name tag.

Beside Two Rocks, his friends laughed. I could hear them even as they walked outside.

The boy wore a smile as he waved good-bye.

Dads’ Day Lunch provided the best 60 minutes I’d spent all week.