Happy April, My Friend!
I have to confess something to you: I am a serial killer. Oh, shoot, wait—I spelled that wrong. Let me try again: I am a cereal killer. Or was, rather. Mmm-mm, I loved breakfast cereal with an everlasting love—so much so that I thought I’d write about it.
Ahhhh, breakfast. My favorite meal as a kid. It meant a bowl of something delicious, and maybe that would be the day I’d get whatever prize was hidden inside—some cheap yet fabulous little toy I’d seen advertised during the Saturday morning cartoons. That toy cried out to me from the TV screen, “Patti, you want me. You want me with every fiber of your being. Convince your mom you need this box of cereal. Don’t tell her about me, the prize. Tell her the cereal has extra vitamins in it. Moms love that stuff. Go ahead. Tell her . . . . . ” And then when my mom and I were shopping at the grocery store, and I’d see that particular type of cereal, with that coveted prize, I’d stop and linger there, hoping my mom would have pity on me, a poor little girl, bereft and alone. Some days, she had more grace and mercy than others. Some days, we got that sweet stuff. Other days, we went home with Corn Flakes.
Since my dad was diabetic and quite vigilant about his diet, we did, in fact, have the non-sugary cereals in abundance. You know, your Wheaties, Corn Flakes, plain Cheerios. There was absolutely nothing fun about these products. “Breakfast of Champions”? Who cares? I am the least athletic person in the world, and so no amount of “really great athletes eat this!” would get me excited. There wasn’t even anything fun to look at on the backs of these boxes. Don’t tell me how good you are for me. I don’t want to be bored to death that early in the morning, thank you.
But now your more sugary, kid-oriented cereals, those were what I’m talking about! Your Fruit Loops, your Apple Jacks, your Lucky Charms. (The only problem with Lucky Charms was that we wanted to eat the little marshmallows first, and then you’re basically left with plain Cheerios. Big whoop.) Those were the cereals of my dreams. Maybe the idea that Trix, Fruit Loops, and Fruity Pebbles were supposed to be “fruity” convinced our moms it was good for us? But what is the excuse for Cocoa Puffs? There’s no way moms will agree that chocolate is suitable for a kid in the morning. But every now and then, I had some. Good times.
I distinctly remember setting up the cereal boxes around my bowl in such a way as to block off anyone else with me at the table. Three boxes were perfect: One sat directly in front of me (just behind the bowl), and then two other boxes winged off on either side. Usually, I looked at some sort of game or character while crunching down my bowl of cereal. The idea was to set up the boxes so no one could see through, leaving me entirely alone. I could be undisturbed in my cereal box reading. A cereal-loving introvert’s Nirvana.
And didn’t we all perfect the art of digging in the box for the prize? Of course, you had to eat some of the cereal to make some space. The next step was to hold the box horizontally and shake the contents a bit to spread the cereal in an even layer inside. As you opened the boxtop carefully, you’d gently squeeze the sides of the box, so you could easily see inside, looking to see if the prize was visible. If it was, hallelujah! You’d reach into it and grab it! But if not, the trick was to flip the box over quickly, trying not to disturb the inner contents. Squeeze sides, peer in . . . surely it was visible this time. Claim your prize, girl!
Oh! And once, I found a prize ON a cereal box—an actual record I could play on my record player! I had to cut it out of the back of the box, but it was “The Archies” singing “Jingle Jangle.” Ah, sweet mystery of life, at last, I have found you!
Since I pretty much hated every vegetable on God’s green earth back then and frequently told my mom I “didn’t like” what she made for dinner, cereal was my backup. (I’m beginning to realize I was a real pain in the butt at mealtimes.) It was also the perfect after-school snack for 17 years of my life.
I’m no longer a kid (by a long shot) and now buy the “boring” cereals regularly. No more colorful cereals. Beige—that’s the color of my morning cereal these days. Sure, I liven it up with some colorful berries but gone are the days of looking at those boxes full of games and funny little characters. Now I eat my oatmeal and watch the morning news.
Ugh! I’m a grown-up!
All this cereal talk is to hopefully remind you of the simple pleasures in life. Something as easy as a bowl of cereal could make my day as a kid. Now I’m an adult and much more sophisticated than that little girl. Well, that’s not true. Maybe I’m a little more sophisticated than that little girl. But I still try to look for the simple things in life in which to take joy: watching birds at my birdfeeder, taking a nap, going for a walk with Kevin, watering my plants, reading a good book. Is it always easy to do? In a word, no. There’s always the TV and someone telling me I need something they are selling. There are any number of voices trying to get my attention and tell me how unhappy I am. Sometimes I can tune it out. Other times, I believe the noise.
But today, I just want to sit with a bowl of cereal and enjoy the simple pleasure of it. I hope you find joy in simplicity this week, my friend.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“Simple things relieve eyes;
simple things ease mind, simple things create meditation,
simple things are simply miraculous!”
Mehmet Murat ildan