Cereal Killers

Have you any idea how many children it takes to turn off one light in the kitchen? Three. It takes one to say, "What light?" and two more to say, "I didn't turn it on."
-- Erma Bombeck

Hello. My name is Keeper of the Herd and I'm a stress-eater.

After a challenging second interview and a really rough week I decided that what I really, truly, wanted after a nice, long sleep was a big bowl of Cap'n Crunch cereal on Sunday morning. Not really a bowl, no...more like the whole box. I wanted to binge on Crunch and eat my crappy week away. I wanted to keep adding little bits of crunchy goodness to the milk until I was content that I wanted no more. I went to bed dreaming of my morning bowl of bliss. (Hey, I don't call you out on your bad habits! Don't call me out on mine!)

Saturday night I took my beloved herd to the grocery store. I asked each of them what kind of cereal they wanted. I BOUGHT them the cereal THEY wanted! Several boxes! I bought myself a beautiful box of Cap'n Crunch. Ahh...sweet, crunchy corn crap. But alas, when I awoke on Sunday, what do you think they had eaten? Absolutely! MY box of cereal! Their boxes were untouched.  Unbelievable; unless you have a herd of your own and then surely you have experienced this brand of betrayal.

Of course, what escalated my shock and outrage at the discovery of the near empty box of cereal was that not one member of the herd made a peep when I bellowed "WHO DID THIS? WHO ATE MY CEREAL?" The look on their faces said "cereal? What cereal? Who is this woman? What is she hollering about? I have never heard this word- c e r e a l."

Finally the scrambled answers began to flow. Not in the form of confessions, mind you; no, no, they took the form of blame. "Rough Stuff had some. Little Bean had a cup too." Why is it, when you ask a question of a herd of children, their replies never, ever begin with 'I'? They know they've been caught. They know too, that their siblings are going to rat them out and sell their soul, but some compelling inner force keeps them from making a confession.

I threw the half-empty box of cereal on the floor in a momentary mommy-tantrum. I know,I know...I could be nominated for a worst-mommy-of-the-year award for that scene but I wanted the herd to know that I felt betrayed. I declared I would never again buy them the cereal they asked for. They pursed their lips together to hide smiles. They knew I was bluffing and they were keeping their poker faces on. I stormed away, without my Crunch cereal. 

Herd 1-Keeper 0