Last night I came home from the supermarket with a box of Lucky Charms. My boys have endured my rants about the evils of sugary cereal, the wrongness of marketing this to children as a healthy breakfast. They’ve stoically accepted that Cookie Crunch will never be a part of “a healthy, well-balanced breakfast” under my roof.
I surprised them with a box for dessert last night after dinner. It was inspired by my brother who was staying with us. Growing up, our mother also didn’t allow sugary cereals. Twice a year, she’d buy Honeycomb (a real lightweight junky cereal compared to its shelf-mates Captain Crunch and Count Chocula), and Griff and I went wild, emptying the box in one sitting.
When we could drive, we struck a deal with her. If we did the family grocery shopping, we could buy whatever cereal we wanted. Thus began the Lucky Charms years.
Just as I remembered, the milk turns Easter egg colors, pastel blue shifting into seafoam green. The leftover milk, having been steeped with color and sweetness, is its very own confection, a secondary, unexpected bonus treat when the cereal is gone.
Thomas (nearly thirteen), bowl of sugary pieces bobbing in milk in front of him, said, “I can’t believe that this is actually happening”.
As they shoveled the chalky bits into their mouths, James kept saying, to no one in particular, “I never even thought they would be this good”.