Island Packet — Not to be the indigestible kind of overbearing, obnoxious screaming-on-the-soccer-sidelines father dude, but I have to report that my 6-year-old is a genius. But he is not a genius in the traditional sense — he cannot, for instance, perform a full piano concerto (he can only make it like halfway through Rachmaninoff’s “Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,” which is kind of embarrassing), and he can’t complete major surgeries or anything (OK, he did that partial knee replacement one time, but to be fair he was looking at Wikipedia).
What he has done is revolutionize breakfast, via his most recent invention: Cocoa Pebbles And Fruity Pebbles Mixed Up Together In One Bowl And Eaten Without Milk.
I am going to pause so you can drive to the nearest Grocery Mart, screaming and with your arms flailing wildly over your head if you have a large enough car, to purchase or steal (whatever, I’m not your Dad) two boxes of Pebbles and speed maniacally home to hungrily gorge upon what will certainly be the most life-changing breakfast-oriented experience you will have all month. (Having planned for this, I brought a book to pass the time. It is by Nicholas Sparks. I have just begun it, but I am pretty sure it will involve young, star-crossed lovers who hail from two different worlds and whose all-too-brief summertime romance ends abruptly when one of them is eaten by a monster.)
Because if you are like me and a shocking percentage of your days have begun with the slurpy consumption of Pebbles and/or things made out of Pebbles, you are literally beating yourself in the head with a fireplace poker right now wondering what was the point of keeping your Pebbles apart, like lovers in a Nicholas Sparks novel, when the answer to such breakfast magic lay right before you, if only you had had the foresight to knock the two boxes over at once or something.
But to my son, this is only the latest of a long list of incredible Meal Plans, which, over the course of six years, have included the following:
- Sprinkle Pancakes
- Sprinkle Pancakes In The Approximate Lumpy Shape Of A Train-Like Thing
- 38 Pieces Of Bacon At A Time
- The Squishy Inside Of Pop-Tarts, But Not The Crust LordAlmighty Don’t Eat The Crust Or You Might Faint
- Sandwiches Without Bread, Which Are Basically Ziploc Baggies With Ham In Them But I’m Counting It
(A word to all you self-appointed “nutrition experts” and “Division of Family And Children Staffers” and “my Mom”: yes, we do feed the boy plenty of quote-fingers “healthy” and not-contribuing-to-the-national-childhood-obesity-epidemic foods, but these foods are not funny. Research has proven that there is nothing amusing about celery. If you can come up with the remotest shadow of a joke about granola, e-mail me. Do not even get me started on those stupid jerk carrots.)
The Pebbles business is burned into my DNA; as my parents will attest, I made family grocery shopping as easy as possible by consuming Cocoa Pebbles four mornings a week for the calendar years 1979-1993, often topped off with a frosted brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tart, all eaten in order to achieve my goal of, by graduation, weighing one thousand pounds (I ended up being 350 off). The best part, of course, is the soupy chocolate aftermath, part chocolate milk, part floating partly liquefied puffed rice horns, all phenomenal.
RELATED, SORT OF
- A magical land where you buy 36 Pop-Tarts, and also a couch
- Springsteen goes on hiatus, and there’s a waffle shortage. This week sucks.
My son, tragically, does not know of this last part, as he has, for six years, vehemently resisted the absolutely whackadoo idea of eating his cereal with milk, which totally cuts down on grocery bills but is kind of weird. So instead, these mornings, I give him a spoon and his self-created (PATENT PENDING, YOU VULTURES) treat, which leaves him happy and sated and with teeth a color that I have never previously known teeth could become. After that, it’s straight back to the Rachmaninoff!