It was shortly before three and I’d just returned home with my three cherubs from the afternoon school run. I set the bag of groceries on the floor that I’d brought in from the car, and bolted for the office to check email. Before anyone noticed I was gone.
Precisely two seconds later I heard the distinct noise of something being dumped on the kitchen floor. And the Gort’s voice. ‘Uh, Mooooo-ooom….Percy’s….’ followed by intense laughter. Never a good sign.
I ran into the kitchen. Just in time to see my newly-fifteen month old stand in the middle of the floor. Holding the newly-purchased box of Multigrain Cheerios – upside down – and dumping every.last.Cheerio onto the linoleum.
It was a big box. It was a lot of Cheerios.
Spurred on by his big brother’s laughter, the little man opted to dance upon the sea of cereal. Relishing the sound of Cheerios being crushed underneath his tiny feet. The pile of intact Cheerios morphed into a pile of Cheerio-crumbs. As with all minor child-related disasters, there were many conflicting thoughts. All barreling through my brain at the same time.
Should I save the cheerios or throw them away? Saving them would require picking them up by hand and depositing them in some sort of container. Which would require finding an empty, clean receptacle. Preferably with a lid.
Throwing away the cereal would require a broom. And a dustpan.
Either approach required lightning-fast reaction times because the little Cheerio crusher – despite being removed from the scene of the crime several times – returned to the mess like a magnet to a refrigerator.
Earlier, at the Superstore, I’d opened the box of cereal as a (very) last resort. To appease a hungry baby from screaming his head off at the holiday-long checkout line. He looked like a little Teletubby with his black and red hat (toque!) adorably fastened underneath his chin. After accepting a few Cheerios from my outstretched hand, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He grabbed the box and stuck his little hand inside, rifling through the contents to achieve an acceptable hand-full of goodness.
His display of determined gluttony was amusing and thoroughly entertaining to the oldies standing in line behind us. And then we got home. And I completely forgot about the open box. Yada yada yada…and now I have a plastic bowl full of dumped Cheerios.
I was taking a picture of the Cheerio mess, when the little guy waddled towards the grocery bag and retrieved a bag of multigrain tortilla chips. He carried the bag to the middle of the floor and turned it upside down. He proceeded to shake the bag, fully expecting the contents to tumble onto the floor.
It was funny. And shocking. His intent was obvious. And it was so…..bad.