If my favorite snack before bedtime is ice-cream (and it is), then my favorite morning breakfast cereal is Raisin Bran.
If I get a chance to eat it.
If she sees me heading from the kitchen to my worktable with cereal in hand, then there will be the patter of little bare feet following.
I know the drill.
So does she.
I push my computer aside, she reaches up her little arms, and in my lap, she’ll sit and eat all the raisins.
Not the milk. Not the bran. Just the raisins.
Kind of like a treasure hunt. One at a time.
Sometimes though she’ll push them below the surface of the milk with her index finger and then, holding her little chubby hands palms up and with a shrug of her shoulders, she’ll say, “Where’d they go?” Or something like that.
But, bless her heart, occasionally, for every three raisins she discovers and places in her mouth, she’ll take and load up my spoon and hold it, suspended above the bowl, waiting for grandpa to take it as it’s my turn.
To eat my own cereal.
The advertisement on the box said “plump, juicy raisins in every spoonful.”
She picks those out before handing me the spoon.
She gets the raisins. I get the bran. We share.
What a treasure.