I try to be a cool mom every once in a while. Not too often, because I don’t want my kids getting confused and thinking that we’re friends or something. We’re not friends, The Destroyer. Playing a Mortal Kombat together does not a friendship make. Especially since I rip you to shreds every.single. time. Bwahahaha. Raiden wins.
Evil laugh aside, I thought that I’d be completely unlike my own mother and get my kids the junk cereal of their choice as a treat. That’s a cool mom thing to do, right? They chose Cinnamon Toast Crunch, which I felt was a bit of a cop out. I mean, CTC is pretty close to Life cereal, and I wouldn’t put Life in the complete junk category. I couldn’t believe it. What kind of kids do I have? I was like, “You guys, how about Coco Puffs? Froot Loops? (Called such because to use the word Fruit would be such blatant false advertising that the box would spontaneously disintegrate on the shelf) Cookie Crisp?” I mean, come on. I was giving a chance I would have killed for at their age. With my bare hands.
Let’s stroll down memory lane, shall we?
My mother, code name Supermom, always made sure we had cereal that she deemed “healthy.” Debatable. The point is, they were the worst. Here they are, in order of horrible:
8) Rice Krispies. Rice Krispies were the masquerade of the cereal world. You get all pumped up, what with the “Snap, Crackle, Pop!” sounds. You thought they were going to be good, but then you found they needed sugar. Tons of sugar. Then, all that sugar sank to the bottom and left a sugary, grainy mess that your (my) mom made you drink cause wasting milk is bad.
7) Wheaties. Also trickery of the worst sort. I thought they were going to be amazing because Mary Lou Retton was on the box. Oh my god, I remember when I finally persuaded my mom to buy them, I WAS SOOOO PUMPED. I came home and could barely sleep cause in the morning I was about to win Olympic gold after my Wheaties breakfast. Wheaties are bran flakes with an awesome name and awesome athletes on the box. Athletes like Mary Lou Retton. You guys, Mary Lou Retton is a LIAR. LIIIIIAAAARRRR! She was smiling on the Wheaties box like this cereal wasn’t nasty at all. Wheaties are glorified bran flakes. They should have been called Brannies.
6.) Regular Shredded Wheat. Not the Frosted Mini-Wheats (which I’m not particularly fond of), but that big ol’ cardboard brick that settled in the middle of your bowl and proceeded to suck ALL of the milk out of it. So then, you had a soggy cardboard brick. That, of course, you couldn’t waste. I have to say though, that Shredded Wheat wasn’t half bad when flavored with tears. Mmmm, salty.
5.) Chex. My mom for some reason, had a thing for wheat. So we had to eat Wheat Chex. And really, there’s no story behind this. They were gross from day one.
4.) Regular Cheerios. They smell like pee. Why do babies love them?
3.) Cornflakes. Instant sog. My mom would get sooooo mad when we wouldn’t put the milk away, but we had to explain to her that if we put the milk away, the cereal would be corn-flavored paste by the time you turned back around to eat it.
2.) Grape nuts. It has been firmly established that there is nothing grape or nut about this cereal. I think they should rename it. How about Molar Breakers? Or Nasty Molar Breakers—that has a nice ring to it. I think my mom still has a box that we refused to eat.
1.) Weetabix. Jesus, was this cereal bad. Listen, I was quite a picky eater as a kid. I didn’t like anything. But this was the only thing we ever begged my parents not to get in the store. I mean we James Brown begged—please, Dad, please, no, not Weetabix—down on our knees and everything. There was no amount of sugar, no redemption at all for these dry, brown, nuggets of suffering. One time, when she was about six, my baby sister Birdie had a nervous breakdown at the table just to avoid eating her Weetabix. My other sister went back to bed for the rest of the day. And so I sat, alone, with the Weetabix box taunting me because I couldn’t come up with an escape plan. I wish I could say that I rose to the challenge and triumphantly choked down the oblong-shaped horror. But I didn’t. I just sat there until lunch.
I think my parents may have been sadists. Why else would they have bought this stuff? (Being rotten little brats could not have been the reason, at all.)
I know some of ya’ll have a breakfast of hate. Please share, it’s the right thing to do.