I realize that I’m an optimist, but wouldn’t you think, that in this day and age, they could come up with a better way of opening cereal bags?
I did not grow up eating cereal. Instead, our mom would wake up every morning at, I believe, 5:30. She would read her Bible and pray, and then she would make us pancakes or waffles or eggs or French toast or some other lovely breakfast thing. Then, after devouring our tasty meal we’d sit while Dad read devotions and prayed and then we’d rush off to the bus stop for another day, our tummies filled with the most important meal of the day – and, of course, lots of love to top us off.
I remember, incidentally, that there were days I was convinced that Dad was praying far too long and that I was going to miss the bus. Being the youngest I wondered (in the middle of the prayer) if possibly I’d missed some secret signal that had previously been set up by my sisters that would alert our dad to the idea that he was praying too long.
I would cough. Sometimes more than once. I would wiggle. I would sniff. I would do anything to let Dad know that, by golly, if he didn’t stop praying so long he was going to have to drive us to school.
I don’t think he ever stopped due to my coughing. Probably prayed longer, even.
And, truth be told, I never missed the bus.
But back to the cereal.
I remember being at the military commissary with my mom once and begging her to buy Apple Jacks cereal. Now, my mom was not one to give in to tactics such as begging, comparing, or otherwise cajoling. In fact, she, like Dad ignoring my coughing, probably would resist buying something the more I bothered her about it.
But, for some unknown reason, she gave in that day. Perhaps she was feeling ill or weak or simply kind – all I know is, she bought the Apple Jacks – that green box we still see on the grocery store shelves today.
I couldn’t believe my good fortune.
And then came breakfast the next day. I was so excited. I was over the moon! Apple Jacks for breakfast!!
Yep. You guessed it. I hated them.
Yep. You guessed it again. Mom was quite cross.
I recall the same thing happening one day when I insisted that yes, I did want an egg salad sandwich for lunch. “Yes,” I insisted, “I love egg salad. Yes, I will eat every bite.”
Mom asked me again. Clarified. Looked puzzled.
Yep, I hated it. Still am not a fan.
Those are the only two times I recall Mom giving in to my bizarre food desires. And, to be honest, I don’t blame her for resisting, given my track record.
As for the cereal thing, I still don’t care for it. I eat a couple kinds, but I’d far rather have yogurt and fruit with granola on top than a bowl of cereal with milk.
And as for opening those cereal bags…it’s the most annoying thing since forever.
‘Cause, you see, I am not near the mother my mom was – I give my kids cereal for breakfast. None of this homemade goodness from me. And, quite frankly, I’m done feeling guilty about it.
Or I thought I was until I wrote this post…