I have just finished my sixty ninth consecutive Cheerios breakfast.
Well, almost. I did break up the series one day a couple of weeks ago when I luxuriated in a breakfast of home-made fig jam. I can assure you that the maker of said fig jam did not come from this home for I wouldn’t want my image of the undomestic Goddess to be tarnished. If people know you can cook, it only creates pesky expectations even if you can only sort of cook, so better not to go there.
This less than cheerful Cheeriofest started some months ago when youngest (Geekchild) proclaimed that he absolutely loves Cheerios and could I please round up some in my weekly hunting and gathering trip to the supermarket. Geekchild obtains all of his gourmet tastes from American cartoons such as the Family Guy, American Dad and the Simpsons. Thanks to Homer, Peter Griffin and whatever name the American Dad group go by we have had to try banana cream pie, buffalo wings and corn dogs.
None of these wonder foods figure on the Australian menu. And to think mindless, satirical cartoons were non-educational – ha! Judge my parenting if you must, but I’m always up for feeding (pun intended) my children’s desire to learn about other cultures and expand their taste bud horizon. And no, I don’t indulge their sweet tooth, their takeaway food tooth or give into their every whim and desire. It just so happens that I, too, have always wanted to know what in the world was banana cream pie.
Needless to say, a couple of bites in and both Geekchild’s and my curiosity and palate were satisfied. We can now tick banana cream pie off our bucket (pun intended) lists and can appreciate why it does not figure on the Australian menu.
What is this thing called breakfast?
But back to the Cheerios. It just so happens that the Cheerios request happily coincided with a visit to Costco. And there it was the beacon of Cheerios down the end of the aisle beckoning and seducing me with its corn, wheat, oats and rice, 10 vitamins and minerals and no artificial flavours. All 650 gram giant double packs of it.
Me: “Great, they’ve got it, Geekchild is really going to be impressed”
The Committee: “Two packs of 650 gram cereal is too much. Geekchild will be eating Cheerios for 120 consecutive days”
Me: “But it’s here, now. Soooooo convenient”
The Committee: “You can always get a smaller pack back at your local supermarket”
Me: “Listen Committee, when you start having to cope with the strangeness of teens eating habits, you will know that having them eat breakfast before lunchtime is a major achievement. Decision overruled”.
And so here I am some months later eating my sixty ninth consecutive bowl of semi stale Cheerios. Geekchild has had 
two. There’s only about 25 more to go for in one of my more particularly grey moments I bought an additional smaller box from my local supermarket thinking that Geekchild would benefit only to find that the level in the open box had not fallen in a month. You see teenagers don’t tend to tell you when their food passions wane, you are meant to pick up these vibes through subliminal mind transfer and your abilities as a parental oracle.
Uncle Tobys or Nestle if you are reading this please DON’T send me any more Cheerios. I’m grateful that my modern day cereal drama is almost at an end, the finishing line is in sight.
Things I have learned from this experience: everything in moderation and there’s no use crying over stale Cheerios.
Last night, Geekchild came to me and said “this V8 juice is great mum, can you buy another five bottles?” At which point 25 bowls of Cheerios bathed in fruit/vegetable juice flashed before my eyes and I escaped to take refuge in my pantry.
The sacrifices we make for our children…
Have you ever been the victim of your child’s food fads? Are you ever concerned about their eating habits? Would you like a bowl of stale Cheerios?
Raising the Curtain 