Breakfast.
The most – interesting – meal of the day.
Mom believed in beginning the day with a good, hot, hearty meal.
Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Pancakes. Waffles. Ham. Fruit. Muffins.
Fresh bread. Cinnamon buns. French toast.
A breakfast milkshake that included eggs and fruit. And occasionally, chocolate.
She mixed and matched.
And pure deliciousness emerged.
But sometimes, she allowed us kids to graze.
Okay, her version of grazing was to set out a plethora of
cold cereal boxes and let us take our pick.
Funny how kids accustomed to ‘home-cooked’ can think ‘store-bought’
is a real treat.
But we did.
We happily selected and poured and sugared and crunched.
Except for big brother George.
He did all of that . . . and built a fort.
His breakfast fort.
And, because he did it, and made it look like fun, I had to
do it too.
Did you know it’s possible to sit at the same table with
someone and never even catch a glimpse of them?
Well it is.
With a little ingenuity.
And a lot of cereal boxes.
George would set a large cereal box on either side of his
bowl. Then add a third to connect the first two.
Voila!
Cereal box fort.
Private and exclusive.
One could eat one’s bowl of awesomeness and never even know
that one had breakfast companions.
Well, until Mom came, demolished one’s fort with her genius
for quick and effective relocation and a, “Stop doing that, you two. We need to see each other’s
bright and smiling faces in the morning!”
To which George would inevitably reply, "My face isn't bright and smiling!"
Yeah. Cereal boxes. They can hide so much.
