Usually my wife is the one who blogs about the funny things that are just a daily part of having three small children, but I called dibs on this one.
I poured Kaylynn’s breakfast cereal this morning. Given the fact that my love of cereal almost eclipses my love of soda, there’s always a large selection of cereals here for breakfast. They aren’t the healthy ones, either (sugary cereal never killed anyone, and if it did, I refuse to hear about it).
A quick look atop my refrigerator at any given moment would probably yield my staple cereals, which are Fruity Pebbles (or Fruit Loops), Cocoa Pebbles (or Cocoa Puffs), Corn Pops, Frosted Flakes, Golden Crisp, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and Lucky Charms, plus a few other random cereals thrown in for good measure.
This morning, the kids picked cereals that aren’t always on the roster. Ryan and Aidan opted for a somewhat healthier alternative, Honey Bunches of Oats, but Kaylynn saw a box of Crispix in a visible spot. “I want that one,” she said.
As I poured her cereal, Liesl said, “That kind is called ‘Crispix.’” Kaylynn’s eyes light up, and she said in a small voice full of wonder, “Ohhhhh… Christmas!”
Consider Crispix a new staple.
That is totally to cute for words. Kaylynn is so cute. Thanks for sharing.
That’s to be expected from a child whose mother thinks that blowing a candle out smells like Christmas, isn’t it?
I read Just Speaz first, before this entry, and think I know what’s happening to your girls. It’s been happening to me, too, for over fifty years. Whenever the sky gets that grey cast, nights get cooler, breezes freshen, leaves start THREATENING to turn color–and around here, the hills all look like brand new gold carpeting, just vacuumed for the first time before all the furniture is replaced!–I start getting that tingly feeling: something’s coming. Something good! Something kaleidescopic in sensual appeal: wood smoke and cloves and oranges and thick soups and pumpkins and roasted almonds and heaps of comforters and wooly sweaters and thick socks and nordic caps and soul stirring oratorios and heart warming carols and the unearthly quiet of the first REAL snow and bright red cheeks and the sweetly painful hands and feet as they thaw out by the wood stove (it should be red!) and dazzling heaps of brilliantly colored paper, torn off in a frenzy of excitement and jewel-toned ribbons strewn with more profusion than streamers at Time’s Square on New Year’s Eve!
Crispix!
Haha, Christmas, that’s awesome. I would have loved to hear that! She’s such a peach
LOL sounds like Kaylynn’s in the Christmas spirit already!
So, Rob! I love your blog about Crispix. But, I love Aunty Penn’s comment even more. She cannot be from NM. It sounds like Upstate New York to me.
I just got back from a BK run here in Longmont and thought how it feels like autumn. Cool, crisp air. Beautiful sunshine and the trees hinting at turning aspen gold. My favorite time of the year.
So, where is Aunty Penn from?
Aunty Penn used to live in New Mexico, now she lives in Washington State
so… completely unrelated to this post…
while reading more of nytimes, i realized that no media coverage is without a bent, so the nyt has one as well, of course. i just prefer the fact that all the opinion stuff is generally concentrated in the ‘opinion’ column, which provides some pretty seething reviews of recent political events, democrat and republican.
you’re completely right about the tabloid headlines of fox and cnn. i admit, it takes more patience to scroll through the various pages of the times, but i’d rather not read any more about sketchy coffee places or revel in scandal-this scandal-that every time i’m looking for political coverage or what’s going on in the world.
how funny about the similar books and ‘the office’!
my friend is going to loan us her british ‘office’ collection (the original), so it’ll be fun to compare the differing senses of humor.
I love Aunty Penn’s comment too. She’s soo darn good at breathtaking word pictures!
OK. I’ll give you one more. The carpet ‘picture’ was definitely from farm country…where I live now. And it’s very pretty and rural. Not home. Not where my heart is….
….where the late November setting sun turns the sandstone mesas into glowing vermillion cliffs (wait til you see this!) and the first dusting of snow brings every wind-etched stone, every pinon, every cedar, into impossible clarity (wait til you see this!) and the night sky is so full of stars of such piercing light (wait til you see this!), the air so thin and cold it hurts….and so heightens all your senses at the same time, that you want to cry out. (Wait, wait, wait!) But it’s all too solemn and too joyful and too full of wonder. You’ll sigh and shiver and won’t want to be torn away and every new day and every new sunset will compel you to ‘come see’. Sigh.
The perfect denouement to the gleeful orgy of Christmas. Or maybe it’s more LIKE Christmas. To me, anyway. Wow. Do I miss the high desert. I’m glad you guys love it, too.
When you’re lying in bed around the third week of November, set your clock for sometime around 3am–oh, nevermind, Wee B. will get you up!–and look out at the Leonid meteor shower. There’s nowhere on earth to see such a thing as in the rarified air of the high desert. Well, maybe Mt. Everest….