The Lucky Charms are supposedly for my son. He loves them. So it’s easy to get away with continuing to buy them and claim they aren’t for me. Because if my precious son did not NEED them, then I would be good, like I have with lots of other snacks that I devour if I buy a whole box/bag of them and just not buy it anymore. But my poor, sweet boy needs these Lucky Charms, and I am his mother and must provide him with his needs.
So there are Lucky Charms in the house.
And that’s why you can often find me digging through the box, snarfing down all of the delicious, one of a kind marshmallows. The pink heart. The red balloon. The blue moon. The shamrock hat. The purple horseshoe, the newer unicorn, the miscolored rainbow, and the yellow and orange shooting star. Their texture and taste is beyond compare.
I toss back the occasional handful of actual cereal to attempt to even out the marshmallow to cereal ratio. But in the end my efforts are fruitless, as I watch my son pour out the second to last bowl from the box to see one lone blue marshmallow moon sitting pitifully on top of the pile of frosted oat cereal. And then the last bowl, even more disgraced than the last, with not one colored morsel in the giant mound filling up his bowl.
Oops. Time to open a new box!