At the invitation of a good friend (Ad, you know who you are!), I have decided to participate in a Mindful Writing Challenge, which can be found if you click on link. It’s a good way for me to practice my writing, but also to keep things afloat here (which is kind of unofficially my goal for 2013….). My only problem is the concept of Small Stones….I tend to write semi-large boulders when I set out to write something small. I guess I’m too wordy. But I’ll attempt to make them a bit smaller as time wears on. Really. I will….I’ll try. But I won’t resolve, because I don’t believe in resolutions (you can see why here, if you’re so inclined…). But as for the task at hand, my very first not-so-small stone.
She sat at the breakfast table, digging around in her bowl to find each technicolor tidbit, only to quickly deposit it onto the table. As I sat and watched, the small mound of marshmallows grew, turning into a multicolored mountain next to her bowl. Over and over, she sifted through her bowl, like someone panning for gold, looking at each bit of cereal carefully before either dropping it back into the bowl, or carefully placing it among the colorful chosen. After careful scrutiny, and more sifting, she finally brought forth the deluge of milk, drowning the chaff within the bowl. After a quick stir of her spoon, the undesirables were consumed, spoonful by spoonful, until the bowl was empty of oat cereal entirely. But this was not the end of her mass cerealicide… apparently the salvation of the marshmallows was to be short-lived. She gathered them all up in one scoop and dropped them into the milky remnants within the bowl. In less than a minute, the once Chosen Few were gone, down into the depths of my hungry daughter’s stomach. She then smiled broadly, and I believe I heard her utter “yummy” under her breath. I just rolled my eyes, and took another drink of my coffee.
You see, this is Victoria’s ritual whenever she eats Lucky Charms (or the store brand equivalent). I find it interesting, if not a bit horrifying. Why take the time to segregate one part of the population, and force them to participate in what will invariably mean their destruction, leaving the other portion to the side, and giving them false hope because you’re going to do the same to them very soon? It seems rather cruel — giving such hope only to take it away in one fell swoop. I hope she doesn’t end up becoming President someday; goodness knows how she’ll treat her citizens. But then again, this is only cereal…
The funny thing is, as I wondered about her behavior, I remembered that I had done much the same thing when I was her age. I’d eat the oat cereal, saving the marshmallows for last. I just didn’t take them out of my bowl, making them think they were somehow saved from the massacre. Yeah, yeah…cereal. I know. Even now, when I have canned soup with the little meatballs in it, I always save the meatballs for last (just ask the Izzlets…they always ask if they can have them. The fools. Of course I’m not going to give them away!). I’m not sure why I do this. I guess I like them the best. Or maybe I’m still just a kid deep down in the recesses of my soul. Maybe it’s a bit of both. Toria probably has her own reasons for saving her marshmallows. One day, I’ll ask her. But for now, I’ll keep watching her in her quest for what she feels is the awesomeest way to eat her breakfast, letting her eat it the way she wants. Because it makes her happy. And that makes me happy.