La La La La Lumps in my Oatmeal

The Jilb ate the last of the Wheaties this morning. I remember picking out the box with her.

* * *
The Jilb: Oooo! Look, Steve Nash!

Me: Do you know who Steve Nash is?

The Jilb: No.

Steve Nash: But Wheaties are delicious. . .

The Jilb: He's right. Wheaties are delicious.

Me: Into the cart.

* * *
The Wheaties was our last box of cereal. And because we didn't have any more pop tarts, I resigned myself to starving this morning. I made sure the Jilb knew I was starving.

Me: I'm starving.

The Jilb: Make an egg.

Me: What's an "egg"?

The Jilb: Make some toast.

Me: Toast is gross.

The Jilb: Make some coffee.

Me: What's "make"?

Finally I remembered the box of oatmeal that's been sitting in the back of at least two unreachable cupboards for the past year, because the Jilb doesn't like to eat oatmeal, and I don't like to make things.

"Make something, moron!" (That was my stomach, not the Jilb.)

"Ok." (That was me.)

So I made oatmeal. And then I ate oatmeal. And then I argued with oatmeal.

Me: Oatmeal, you took about a million times longer to make than Cocoa Puffs.

Oatmeal: But I was warm and delicious.

Me: Wrong. You were too hot. Then you were too cold. Then you were too lumpy. Lumps are gross, man.

Oatmeal: You just don't know how to make me.

Me: Also, you don't turn into chocolate milk at the end. In fact, you don't do anything except get cold and lumpy.

Oatmeal: You can turn me a more darker brown with piles of brown sugar. That's something, right?

Me: Hey, does brown sugar go bad? I think I've had that little bag for, like, three years.

Oatmeal: Beats me.

Me: Also, if I don't clean up right away, you turn into little concrete specks and stick to the pot forever.

Oatmeal: At least I don't stick to your arteries. At least I'm healthy for you.

Me: Yeah, about that. Is there a way to make you less healthy and more awesome?

Oatmeal: Try chocolate chips.

Me: Done.

* * *

In conclusion: Me and Steve Nash - 1, Oatmeal - 0