I was raised by the Fruit Loop. A latch key Lucky Charmer…
If it came in a colorful box with a (I must have it!!) toy inside–it was ON my breakfast table.
Perhaps it was the divorce guilt that made my mother so accommodating, or conceivably maybe she just didn’t know any better.
Also, it was the 80’s. I wasn’t the only kid on the type2 diabetes-inferno-sugar-diet
While I do have gauzy early memories of Shreddies & Rice Krispies, I recall a swift move on to the ‘harder stuff’ as soon as I could articulate the ad bombs that were targeting my innocent brain in between my Saturday morning cartoons. Sure ‘Snap, Crackle, Pop’ was catchy, but those 3 elves couldn’t compete with the bad-ass wrecking ball crew from Transylvania. Pffffffffffffft…slow cooking rice imps! This be some monster crack yo’! Recognize.
My darling (read: exhausted) mother allowed me carte-blanche while riding shot gun in the shopping cart.
I never had to resort to vocal hysterics or crying fits in ‘aisle seven’ as some of my contemporaries had to do with their moms. I knew all of these
drug deallers cartoon characters on a first name basis and would point and ‘squeeeee‘ with delight as she plopped each box in the cart without reservation.
Candy For Breakfast
I can recall with such clarity the ((((ANXIETY)))) that would fester when my marshmallow to cereal ratio was out of flux, my sister often bogarting the marshmallows, leaving me with (feh!) lonely mouthfuls of frosted corn. “Give me my MALLOWS ‘bitch!”
Yes, I spoke in confectionary gangster Ebonics as a child. Why, didn’t every one?
It’s unclear as to why, but besides already having deep seated insecurities for being Canadian (American everything was wayyyyy cooler in the 80’s) there were certain cereals we could never get our hands on due to geography. This of course made these cereals that much more alluring and desirable.
Cases in Point:
Boo Berry never came to town. Like, ever.
I frothed at the bit for this blueberry vomit by virtue of the fact that I couldn’t. have. it.
Another General Mills elusive was Trix.
I remember loving the commercials as a child and the
mind control catchphrase “Silly Rabbit, Trix are for Kids” all the while dreaming that ‘somewhere over the Rainbow’ (Milwaukee?) there are KIDS eating these mysterious fruity corn balls (that taste just like Fruit Loops).
The reality was, Trix wasn’t REALLY for all kids… just the ‘chosen’ ones.
Fruity Pebbles wasn’t available in Canada either, which seemed like THE biggest rip off ever?
The Flintstones were part of every child’s daily viewing diet (usually at noon) and the disenfranchisement was too much for my little heart to take. Fred Flintstone was the biggest star I knew, and I couldn’t taste his prehistoric wares?! Oh Hellllllllllllllllz no.
It was then that I started freebasing Dimetapp. But that’s another story for another day.
Cookie Crisp was probably the most coveted cereal of all. Cookie soup that turns into chocolate milk? Um…yes Please!
I finally started a small importing racket (thanks mom!) via the rough streets of Lake George and Plattsburgh and let me tell you, this cereal lived up to all its hype. That is, until I discovered the mother load….
My saccharine rock bottom… [cue record scratch here]…
*PAC MAN CEREAL*
The *Psychedelic* colors. Those crunch-tastic pellets! Must. Get. Those. Little. Ghosts!
…And then I’d black out.