Cheerio.

Cheerios. 

From as far as I can remember a Cheerio was just a Cheerio. It was something that reminded me of a baby's first food, and something I never really wanted in the cereal isle as a kid unless it was coated with sugar. Was something frequently squished up on my mini van floor, and something used for funky rainy day crafts. Was something cheery British people say and something that kept your heart healthy according to the brands commercials. Speaking of commercials, it became one of the first noticeable biracial commercials that really spoke volumes to me as a mother in an interracial family. But, that's about all a Cheerio has amounted to in my life. Oh and those Cheerio family boxes, you know.. More for less type of thing, was just another way to drop 5 bucks real quick. Just a Cheerio. It wasn't until a typical let's hurry in and out of this grocery store please kids with no begging, trip my three and I made, that I realized a plain little Cheerio was the foundation of a new tradition. Our tradition.

My nearly three year old ninja fighting Nerf gun shooting, baseball playing, monster chasing, dragon scarring son & I, started having impromptu cereal dates. Waking up at midnight because he wanted cereal, eating cereal for breakfast way too early, or randomly wanting a snack after some serious zombie punching. It slowly became our thing. Eventually we got tired of all the creative sugary colorful cereals & opted for plain boring little O's. We set sail on these O's, we became pirates on these O's, we bombed these O's, and we ate these O's off each others spoons. The instant my son would ask "Mommy, cereal date?!?" I knew exactly what bowls to grab and what seat he expected me to be in, and I would get there. We would speak about superheroes and baseball and how girls have cooties. We would burst out in laughter and there were a few times milk nearly spit out of his nose. He would burp and fart, crack up and then sneeze. Everything a typical man does, only while melting your heart at the exact same time, with squinted eyes and milk all over his face. Our conversation over a bowl of Cheerios became a new anticipated adventure every time, and a chance to fall more in love with my son again and again. 

This past grocery run, as we hit the cereal isle, I saw my sons little brown hands reaching a little higher, for the big box. The family Cheerio box. He looked at me after he stood on his tippy toes to reach it and said, "Mama, how many dates me get wiff you out dis box?" You know those moments in life where something smacks you upside the head with pure joy?  (Insert melting heart here) That was right now. My son didn't care about more Cheerios in a box, he cared about more time with his Mommy. 

It's been said time and again that it doesn't matter what you buy your children, it matters the amount of time and love you give to them. You could say a Cheerio is a Cheerio, that's it, that's all it is. But with a little boy, his mother, and a lot of loving imagination, a Cheerio becomes anything that little boy wants it to be; even the wingman to a date with his mom. 

I can only pray that over the years of homework, girlfriends, sports, dreams, new cars, life challenges and goals, that he and I will continue our Cheerio dates for a lifetime. A Cheerio will never be just that, again.