Flakes of All Kinds

Yesterday I posted this on Facebook. 


Because I thought it was funny. Other people did too. And as the poor-babies comments piled up, I thought about posting a comment saying, hey, by the way, you don’t need to buy my kids cereal. It’s not like they don’t get treats. And we’ll be at a hotel soon enough. (Yes, yes, my heart is dark and dessicated. Poor babies.)

But then I thought, no, that’s just silly. No one is going to buy my kids cereal. Because that would be ridiculous. I don’t need to say that. 

This was sitting on my desk when I got to work. 

It is difficult to overstate the magnetic power of a deprived child on a grandma. Even if it’s not said child’s actual grandma. 

“Lynda bought my kids cereal,” I said to a coworker. “I need to be careful about what I post, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said, and paused. “Or maybe you should post more!”

It’s a thought, but I fear what would happen. Two other people thought about sending Froot Loops, and that’s just the ones who’ve confessed. 

I did enjoy my bedtime snack, though. 

What? She said those were for me!

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