Fruit Loops: The Adventures of Fat Mom and Round Boy Continue...

For a kid who doesn't speak with the most fluency, my son is fully capable of making promises he won't keep. This weekend's vow of most solemnency was, "Yes, Daddy, I will eat the Fruit Loops."

Now, you have to understand that in many ways, despite his briliance with things he shouldn't understand (you know, physics, aeronautics, three dimensional space, etc), my boy is a bit behind in some of the kidly enterprises. At age three, he finally began to speak. At age five, he said "I love you" for the very first time. At age six, he discovered what Christmas was on an annual scale. Age seven, he finally recognized that his birthday was Christmas all over again (and there was much rejoicing.). And now, still age seven, but SOOOOO much more advanced...my boy has become subject to commercial brain washing.

He parrots "Five bucks. Circle Round the Good Stuff!". He insists that "GEOX" shoes are for him. (They sell only at Nordstom, so I informed him they most likely will never be for him, but I digress.) He begs for Push pops (blue!) and he's gone on a waffle craze you wouldn't believe. He's being allowed to pick his food, in an effort to get him to try new things. (I keep praying for an onslaught of broccoli commercials, but I don't think The WB will oblige.) And he IS trying them. So, it was only a matter of time before the boy arrived in the cereal aisle and requested a box of cereal.

Lest I berate you with more inane backstory, the kid doesn't drink milk. He was violently allergic, it seemed, as a small baby and since I'm pretty sure his memory is clear all the way back to inception, he has always rejected it on principle. He recently--thanks to Oreo cookie ads--requested a glass to dunk his cookie into. I'm pretty sure the taste was horrid--considering the look on his face--but he ate said cookie and requested never again. But this weekend, my son hugged his blessed box of Fruit Loops and begged his father for them. I was assured that he VOWED to eat them and with a sigh, alllowed them into the cart.

Boy was all a twitter. Fruit Loops! His soulmate, at long last, was found! There were no impatient noises from the back seat. Not until the car stopped with the tiny chirp of, "Fruit Loops?" In an effort not to beat him, because he made up for lost time while the car unloaded and we trudged up the stairs, I poured him a bowl of dry cereal. I did ask about milk, but he rejected with the expression I've come to recognize as the child version of "Are you HIGH??". And so, the boy sat in front of his bowl with a smile that could change the world.

Then he tasted one.

Sadly, I believe my child has bought into the thinking that if it's on TV, it's true. Or worthwhile. He really DOES think that Fruit Loops are part of a good breakfast. He's positive that some where out there, Jackie Chan Adventures really are taking place. He KNOWS that if he checks every bush and tree and pool of water, he will find a pokemon he can crack on the head and make his own.

That first bite of Fruit Loop was perhaps flavored with the vile taste of disappointment. Just what the HELL had his mother done to his wonderful Fruit Loops?? SHE had taken them from obviously delicious to frighteningly dry and hard. He knew it. As if to test this theory on the FL Poisoning, he offered me one. I ate it. Shoot, I ate two, I was hungry. And that, my friends, is when he knew. The commercials had lied. He'd been swindled. And now, he was stuck with a promise he couldn't keep.

So, he put on his brave face and stirred his spoon in crinkling kiddie kibble. But not a loop was eaten.

Does this mean I have a bad kid? Nah. But I do have one who is probably going to rethink his promises a little more before he makes them. As for me, I ate that bowl and hiked my rather large back end onto my exercise bike. I have failed in my quest to manage Resistance 2. So, I switched it back to 1 and set my goals at 10 miles a day. This is doable. :) And hopefully, the back end might fit on the seat some day.

PS: The next day, my valiant boy requested another bowl of gruel. So, I poured the tinkly circles into the bowl and offered to eat one if he did. It took some work--I think his plan is to ask for them, let them go stale and have to be thrown away until the box is empty--but he managed to chew through a loop. He surprised himself. In fact, while his expression was that of a boy licking the underside of horse hooves, he proclaimed the Fruit Loops "GOOD" and proceeded to eat a few spoonfuls. I'm calling it progress. :)