My Dad and I are very territorial when it comes to our cereal.
Let me rephrase that: My Dad and I are very territorial when it comes to our sugary childrens’ cereal.
For as long as I can remember, we’ve been bickering over whatever kids’ cereal is in the cupboard. Because he works swing shift, sometimes we’re in the kitchen at different times and unable to verbally stake our claim that the Cocoa Puffs are “MINE, DAD. Put them back! Don’t eat your stupid big man-sized bowl!”
Over the years, we’ve resorted to leaving each other notes on the cereal boxes. Suddenly Lucky the Leprechaun is missing a tooth and sporting some badass tats. Or the Trix rabbit is a cross-dresser. (What. He loves those damn fruity Trix. Subliminal messaging much? “Thilly Rabbit!” Wow. I’m so done.)
We’ve also left some “Surgeon General’s Warnings” to attempt to discourage the other.
“Fruity Pebbles cause deepening of the voice and the growth of chest hair.”
“Count Chocula is known to increase breast size and attraction to men.”
Times when we’re feeling less subtle or creative, it’s just a skull and crossbones, with a warning to “KEEP OUT!” When Mom restocks the pantry after grocery shopping, everything is fair game. Though Dad has repeatedly insisted “Don’t buy any of that sugary crap anymore. I’m going to eat healthier,” the Total sits untouched and the Shredded Wheat gathers dust.
As I look forward to taking an exciting next step and moving in with Army Boy, I can’t help but feel a little nostalgic.
I wanted to make sure that Dad knows it.
Think that’ll do the trick?