Sugary cereals

Today we will be taking a journey back to simpler times. A time when "yes" meant "no" and "no" meant "maybe." I'm talking about childhood, that delightfully carefree time when we were invincible. And one particular aspect of childhood is the desire, the craving, nay the need for cold cereal containing enough sugar to stop the hearts of weaker mortals. I'm talking about the kinds of cereal that are only "part of a balanced breakfast" when they are used for decoration rather than consumption.

When I was a lad, we had a rule at my house that we could only eat a bowl of "sugar" cereal if we first ate a bowl of "non-sugar" cereal. Alternatively, we could mix a bowl of non-sugar and sugar cereals. Under no circumstances were we to eat only sugar cereal, or even eat the sugar cereal first. (Good intentions to then eat a non-sugar cereal were bound to go unfulfilled. Besides, who could possibly choke down something resembling cardboard after the extreme taste bud stimulation caused by something like Lucky Charms?) I always swore that my children would be free to eat as much sugar cereal as they want. At least they're eating, right? And even the sugariest of sugar cereals are required to have a bunch of vitamins added. And it's not like sugar cereals cost much more than non-sugar, especially if you wait for sales. So as long as they're full, what do I care?

A few weeks ago, I think I finally grew up. In my heart, I was still a kid. Now that I'm out of the house, (where, I might add, the kids can eat whatever they want. What's this world coming to?) I can eat the sweetest cold cereal I can get my hands on, and no one gives a care. And I was doing just that. It happened very suddenly, almost like my body was revolting. I ate my breakfast, began my day, and within an hour, my stomach was growling, saying things like "You forgot to feed me!" and other nonsense my brain knew to be false. But there it was. The stomach refused to listen to reason. The next day, I ate raisin bran, and "Voila!" problem solved. Since that time, whenever I have eaten just cold sugar cereal, I feel like I haven't eaten at all.

These are perilous times. I feel more satisfied having had a piece of Amish Friendship Bread with ice cream than a bowl of the stuff I once craved. My sugar cereal has been relegated to being eaten as an afternoon or evening snack, and must be followed by something more filling. It saddens me, but I see no recovery from this chilling condition.