“I eat cornflakes that come in a box,” he explained, visibly trying to control his exasperation. “These came in a bag. So I can’t eat them”
It all started when my husband brought home a bag of cornflakes. Now I should clarify — before you start thinking that my husband is a baby-hating puppy-kicking monster of a man who should be reported to CPS — that my husband didn’t quite understand what he was doing. I told him that we were out of cereal and since the store was out of the Kellogg’s we usually bought he brought home a bag of cornflakes.
I grabbed the bag from my husband as soon as he walked through the door at 7:55 a.m. and hastily began doling out the cereal.
“I can’t eat this” said my son Zevi looking at me quizzically as if trying to understand how I could miss something so fundamentally obvious.
“What? You eat cornflakes for breakfast. These are cornflakes. So you eat them. Now hurry you need to leave in 15 minutes.”
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