Self-cleaning.
Enchanted with a spell that bewitches child into consuming lunch regardless of fiber content.
Actually, if magic is on the table, possessed power to bewitch my phone to stop every Signup Genius email notification from kid’s class.
Am I even mature enough to handle the enormous magnitude of responsibility that would come with being the guardian of an enchanted lunch box? Jesus look what happened to poor Jack and all he had to manage was a handful of beans!
Speaking of which… Multiple, small, bento-esque compartments to house edamame. Because protein.
Watertightness.
GPS tracking capabilities.
Dishwasher-safe. As in it safely loads the dishwasher all on its own like wizard Mickey in Fantasia but with less hallucinogenic drugs because I came of age during Nancy Reagan’s peak “JUST SAY NO” phase before all that weird astrology stuff started.
Built-in Alexa to spout marine life habitat requirements to refute child’s constant questioning of “Are you sure the pool isn’t closed because of sharks?”
Hand-crafted from sustainable materials like the pulverized shells of horseshoe crabs mixed with goat tears and dandelion seeds. Plus a gryphon’s talon. For the magic. Duh.
Doubles as a USCG-approved flotation device. With shark-repellent sonar. Just in case.
Antimicrobial.
Then again, there are LOADS of fictional characters that have wielded supernatural inanimate objects to great success! Why just look at Harry Potter! Or Gollum! Or Thor! Mmmm. Thor. As the kids say these days, that Chris Hemsworth is a snack. I’d pack quite a few lunches for the chance to review his meal account balance if you know what I mean.
Bulletproof.
Able to cast a spell to convince the senate to pass common sense gun reform laws. Oh, nevermind. There’s no magic THAT powerful.
A hidden pouch to hold a little spending money would be nice. Again, not the hill I want to die on. Speaking of hills and things you can pull out, what about a little pocket for a toothpick? One of those cute ones that look like tiny swords! Then my kid can pretend to be King Arthur and the lunch box can pretend to be Merlin. Oh the magic of imagination.
On second thought, I’d rather have a sorcerous hammering vibrator that also packs…lunches.