LOL!
The Envirothon participants are dropped off, with a cake. Now I need to feed Kathleen, get the Everlasting Leftovers heated, and run James, Vlad, and Frank through the wash. Maybe Kathleen, too ... she has cereal in her hair.
I think somewhere, in the mysterious cubby holes I call “stashing places,” I have a B&W photo of my cute little baldish blonde self with a bowl of oatmeal on my head. For some reason, I thought I liked it.
As I aged (all of six years) I came to loathe oatmeal. And then, again, many years later, I found I liked it. But in my mouth, not on my head!
Take a photo of her and present it to her husband-to-be when the engagement ring is on her finger. ;o]
“Maybe Kathleen, too ... she has cereal in her hair.”
“Hey kid, c’mere!” the bowl of cereal whispered.
“No! My mom told me never to speak to my food!” and it was true, speaking to one’s food is rather strange even on the best of days.
Stranger still when it begins the conversation!
“NO, she didn’t really mean it. Honest, kid.” the cereal DID sound rather sincere.
She leaned slightly closer, the cereal seemed to be moving and..
“Get her, guys!” the cereal leaped out of the bowl onto her hair!
“Mom!” too late, the cereal had done the deed.
The mess was made.
And the toast started getting ideas.