Just when I am feeling all motherly and maternal and adult and serious and possessive of tremendous gravitas, I do something that reminds me I am really a ten year old masquerading as a grown up.
To wit, yesterday I went to Target to do some bulk shopping for the bambina. Diapers, wipes, Cheerios, etc. The usual. I also picked up a package of those "variety pack" cereals that I used to dream about as a kid but that my mom always refused to buy because they were "a terrible waste of money" (say that with a Miss Jean Brodie Scottish accent, and you will get the full picture).
I bought the package because of---stay with me here--the psycho urban squirrels at the kiddie park near my house. No, really. Hitchcock should have made a movie about these squirrels. They climb on the stroller looking for food, they come within 8 inches of the bambina and when I jump toward them to "scare" them, they give me the little squirrel middle finger and walk even closer to her. Which makes me pick her up, put her back in the stroller, once I have denuded it of psycho squirrels, that is, and then run for our collective lives back to the safety of the DC streets. Yeah. I'm not kidding. I feel safer out of the park because I can jam a house key into the trachea of a mugger with my eyes closed, but I can't seem to make a squirrel back off my kid. And of course I'm thinking she's going to get rabies or fleas or whatever, not to mention that there is just something so appalling about having vermin climbing all over your Maclaren where your child sits. Bleeeaaah.
So. I bought the variety pack because the cheerios come in little plastic bags which are in the little cardboard boxes and which have some chance of not being smelled and opened by squirrels, unlike my little sad-act foldie sandwich bags. See? I bought the variety pack NOT because I was acting out some "do over" of perceived neglect from my childhood but because I was concerned for the safety, hygiene and welfare of my precious daughter. Of course.
It will come as no surprise to you then that the variety pack also included cocoa puffs, trix and lucky charms. NONE of which were purchased for Chez Haggis, being "terrible wastes of money," of course. And because my mother considered marshmallows and/or chocolate to be one hundred percent incompatible with "breakfast," regardless of their shape, color or "whole wheat" delivery system. We were Scottish, of course, so, humorously, a similar opinion was not held regarding fried meat, melted cheese, fried bread, and ketchup on our french toast (try it. It rocks). But that is a whole different post...
So what did I do yesterday? I set my daughter up with her Cheerios and her Cheerios book (it's one of those product placement things that actually is helpful, where it has little holes for her to put cheerios as "wheels on the car" or "the mouse's eyeglasses" or "tic tac toe." You get the picture). I then proceeded to draw the curtains, turn off the phone ringer, and tear open the Trix cereal box like it had been airlifted into my refugee camp. Not kidding. Tore that thing open and proceeded to down every last delicious, amazing, fruity, tasty, sugary, decadent, awesome crack-high-providing Trick (?) until the box was empty. Vaporized. Like, not even cereal dust left in the bag. Licked clean.
Dang. Trix are AWESOME!!! But, as the slogan says, they are indeed for kids, and so that was my first and last box. And although they are "for kids," you'd better believe that my kid won't be eating them. As delicious as they may be, and as much as I'm sure she'd love them, they won't be purchased again. Why?
Because they are quite simply a terrible waste of money.