Thursday, February 22, 2007

Royal Breakfast

The Funasaurus is to: cereal
as The Princess is to: shoes.

That is to say, The Funasaurus really, really, REALLY likes cereal. To the point where it's an addiction. No matter how much we've eaten that day, he will always cap off the night with a bowl of cereal before we go to bed. We could have just come from an amazing steak dinner, groaning under the weight of bellyful's of Grade A meat, and he will be all, “Mmm, Captain Crunch! Perfect!” and pour himself a big bowl. (Or, say, after two Thanksgiving dinners, or a SuperBowl BBQ, or a 7 course meal of fried meat dipped in lard and smothered with bread crumbs and wrapped in cheese and bacon.)

This is all to say, we go through boxes of cereal and gallons of milk rather quickly. Sometimes, I am fascinated by this, and want to jump on the cereal train with him, because it gives him such pleasure. However, each time I do, I am reminded that I do not so much like cereal. I don't even eat breakfast. And Honey Comb gives me the heebie geebies.

But I still try cereals, occassionally, because I feel like I must be missing out on something, if it can make The Funasaurus smile like that. So every now and then I will pick out a box in the cereal aisle, as The Funasaurus is gleefully loading our cart with Apple Jacks and Lucky Charms, and add it to the collection. Then we will bring it home, and the box I chose will sit unopened and unloved in our pantry, until the inevitable crisis occurs wherein The Funasaurus has gone through HIS cereal, and is in No Mood to go to the store, for it is practically bedtime, but he absolutely must have a bowl of sugar packed grains, somehow. And he breaks into my poor, forgotten box and it eventually disappears. Sometimes I take a bite. Usually I don't bother.

That's how it was, anyway, until the fateful day when I found THIS CEREAL. I may not like cereal in general, but I LOOOOVE strawberries. Desperately. So I decided to give it a try. Of course, I didn't bother until yesterday, when I went down to get some lunch and realized the cupboard was bare. Save for some flour, stale pretzel rods, and olives that should have been thrown out long ago. And, of course, cereal. So I reluctantly poured myself a bowl of THIS CEREAL, in lieu of olive dipped pretzel crumbs, and holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! Rice Krispies really do Snap! Crackle! Pop! I had forgotten. I haven't had this cereal since I was about five years old, and I'm betting you haven't either, and if that's the case, then shame on all of us, because it is a glorious experience when your cereal is live action! Plus! Dried strawberries! Oh yum.

So I just finished off the box that I started yesterday, and am thinking I need to make a run to the store this afternoon to get me a) 12 more boxes of this cereal to get me through the weekend, and b) a box of red velvet cake that didn't expire last month. (As the one I tried to make on Tuesday, had. Who knew that colored flour expires? I did not. I did see the expiration date, but I took that to mean the packaging would look dated, not that the contents could actually go bad.)

Baby, I totally see what you mean, I am now in the cereal camp, too. It feels so good to be on the inside. If any of you are wondering what to get us for a wedding gift, apparently we are going to need more cereal bowls, spoons, and maybe stock in Royal Crest. Thanks.

3 comments:

v said...

Is there any limit to the verve and hilarity your posts reach?

And I used to be that into cereal. My box of choice was actually two boxes. I mixed frosted cheerios with lucky charms. I called it ambrosia.

Once again, what a witty post! I am truly envious of your writing style!

And if I ever get the cereal jones again, I will remember THAT CEREAL that you speak of.

Pauline said...

You make me laugh out loud - what with the salad servers, the tumbleweed, and fun with breakfast cereals, the last few posts have kept me rolling.

MommyHAM said...

We are cereal killers here too. We don't discriminate, except against the cereals that look and taste like tumbleweeds.