Breakfast serial
My younger son and I share a favorite cereal at the moment: Special K with red berries.
I know that sounds like a strange cereal choice for a 12 year old boy, but he likes it. Unlike his older brother, he does not devour an entire box of cereal in two sittings, so I tolerate his healthy eating choice and do something we all try to teach our kids: SHARE.
This morning offered a rare collusion of events. One of those ooooh, kharma-fate-spooky-weird-destiny moments, otherwise known as coincidence. While my younger son and I were simultaneously enjoying bowls of Special K with red berries (that in itself a rarity as we hardly ever eat breakfast at the same time), a commercial came on TV with a blonde bombshell joining her women friends for breakfast at a swank restaurant.
The gist of the commercial was that this fit and gorgeous woman looked so great (and so blond, too, I am sure) because she ate… yes, you guessed it!... Special K with red berries. As soon as all her women friends found out her “secret,” they changed their orders to Special K with red berries, too. How heartwarming.
Sort of like those Diet Pepsi ads where the slim, sexy model in the bikini looks the way she does simply because she drinks Diet Pepsi, and if only you drank Diet Pepsi, you would look that way, too.
Uhuh.
“See, honey,” I ruffled my son’s hair, “you’ll look just like HER if you keep on eating your Special K.”
He grunted, and my older son, who was working on his second overflowing bowl of Fruit Loops, guffawed.
My younger son was not amused.
I kissed him lightly on the forehead and sang, “Every kiss begins with K!” (A reference to the Kay’s Jeweler’s jingle, but, in my own smart ass way, still referring to the Special K.)
Without missing a beat, my younger son said, “So, if you were mentally challenged, would it be ‘Every kiss begins with Special K?’”
Padum-bum.
The problem with being a smart ass with your children is that they start dishing it right back at you. In spades.
I intentionally model good behavior – like putting my dishes in the dishwasher, hanging up my coat, and making my bed – but do my kids ever mimic those behaviors, which mothers across America seem to adore? No, of course not. But they sure seem to pick up on the smart ass comments rather effortlessly. Maybe it’s just in the genes.
That reminds me. I need to remember to stock up on Special K with red berries the next time I go grocery shopping. I think I caught a glimpse of a blond hair in the mirror this morning.
Or maybe it was gray….
I know that sounds like a strange cereal choice for a 12 year old boy, but he likes it. Unlike his older brother, he does not devour an entire box of cereal in two sittings, so I tolerate his healthy eating choice and do something we all try to teach our kids: SHARE.
This morning offered a rare collusion of events. One of those ooooh, kharma-fate-spooky-weird-destiny moments, otherwise known as coincidence. While my younger son and I were simultaneously enjoying bowls of Special K with red berries (that in itself a rarity as we hardly ever eat breakfast at the same time), a commercial came on TV with a blonde bombshell joining her women friends for breakfast at a swank restaurant.
The gist of the commercial was that this fit and gorgeous woman looked so great (and so blond, too, I am sure) because she ate… yes, you guessed it!... Special K with red berries. As soon as all her women friends found out her “secret,” they changed their orders to Special K with red berries, too. How heartwarming.
Sort of like those Diet Pepsi ads where the slim, sexy model in the bikini looks the way she does simply because she drinks Diet Pepsi, and if only you drank Diet Pepsi, you would look that way, too.
Uhuh.
“See, honey,” I ruffled my son’s hair, “you’ll look just like HER if you keep on eating your Special K.”
He grunted, and my older son, who was working on his second overflowing bowl of Fruit Loops, guffawed.
My younger son was not amused.
I kissed him lightly on the forehead and sang, “Every kiss begins with K!” (A reference to the Kay’s Jeweler’s jingle, but, in my own smart ass way, still referring to the Special K.)
Without missing a beat, my younger son said, “So, if you were mentally challenged, would it be ‘Every kiss begins with Special K?’”
Padum-bum.
The problem with being a smart ass with your children is that they start dishing it right back at you. In spades.
I intentionally model good behavior – like putting my dishes in the dishwasher, hanging up my coat, and making my bed – but do my kids ever mimic those behaviors, which mothers across America seem to adore? No, of course not. But they sure seem to pick up on the smart ass comments rather effortlessly. Maybe it’s just in the genes.
That reminds me. I need to remember to stock up on Special K with red berries the next time I go grocery shopping. I think I caught a glimpse of a blond hair in the mirror this morning.
Or maybe it was gray….
posted by delta at 5:30 PM
2 Comments:
now that i have just discovered i weigh 190 lbs,, i'm gonna start eating Special K drenched in Diet Pepsi.
also, i am vaguely surprised it took your boys this long...
O.mi.goodness!
NO!!! My kids have been sassing me with smartassy comments pretty much ever since they could talk. When they were babies/toddlers, my husband used to say: "I hope you know all that withering sarcasm is going over their heads." Well, it wasn't. They learned rapidement!
It was all the simple chore stuff that seems to have gone over their heads. Or under their feet, as the case may be.
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