A while back my friend Jamie packed Cheerios for her daughter to snack on while we did yoga. Rachel, who is apparently top-chicken in the nursery pecking order, coaxed Sarah to give them up and immediately started consuming them.
“What are these, Mom?” she asked, “They’re kind of like cereal…but better!”
I tried to convince Rachel to give them back to Sarah, but Jamie insisted that Rachel keep the rest. She felt bad that Rachel didn’t know what Cheerios were.
A few weeks ago I stopped by Jamie’s apartment to drop something off for her and she surprised me with a box of Cheerios.
“For Rachel,” she said, “Since every child should know what Cheerios are.”
We opened that box of Cheerios this morning and Rachel had four bowls of it for breakfast. She has had two bowls of it dry for a snack. Andrew and I have been sneaking a couple here and there and do you know what? Cheerios taste good. They really do.
I guess that’s another benefit of returning to the States: cereal that tastes good and doesn’t shockingly resemble cardboard or Styrofoam.
On a completely unrelated note, Rachel learned the word “chore” yesterday. She has a few jobs that she likes to do like unloading the washing machine and putting away silverware (as well as a few jobs that she doesn’t like to do like cleaning up her toys and clearing her dishes from the table). I guess I usually call them jobs instead of chores because she asked for the definition of chore when I told her that she had to finish up her chores before she could do whatever it was she wanted to.
“What’s a chore?” she asked.
Chore comes out sounding a whole lot like Cheerio.
“What’s a chow-e-ow?”