Modern Day Primitive Rituals: Giddy in Misery

I went to the store while my daughter was at dance to get some Cheerios and formula for the babies. The twins (at eight and a half months now) are at the Cheerios stage in their development. I suppose each stage of a child's life has its good and bad. With the Cheerios stage, one can only delight in watching as a baby struggles to grasp, raise, and chew his own food. Later of course, one must pry the soggy almost-eaten Cheerios off of his clothes, chair, and body. Hours after that, one can only shrug as you find him eating a Cheerio that he has mysteriously produced from some magical, Cheerios hiding place on his body. They will continue to fall out for the next several days, and there is always one or two in his diaper.

But I digress, I was at the store pondering my choices: Multi-Grain Cheerios, Frosted Cheerios, Honey-Nut Cheerios, Yogurt-Burst Cheerios (Strawberry), Yogurt-Burst Cheerios (Vanilla), Berry-Burst Cheerios, Fruity Cheerios, Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, and the generic Happy-Os when I noticed a young lady marching down the aisle with a determined gait. It was clear that she knew exactly where she was going and what she was getting. She was talking on her cell-phone, and I could not help but overhear her as she approached, "They broke up...Yes, they just broke up....I am getting the cookies and milk now if you would take care of the movies." She grabbed a package of Oreos off of the shelf without breaking stride and took a left turn towards the milk. She picked up the pace and her voice seemed to be gaining an edge of insane giddiness to it, "I just love this ritual."

Ritual? I wanted to hear more, but from that short snippet of overheard conversation, an entire story had leapt into my head. I picked-up the Happy-Os and absent-mindedly picked up a package of Oreos in amusement. A few minutes later, I found myself at the self-check out next to her as she purchased a gallon of milk and the package of Oreos. She must have been talking to someone new for the story was same but with added details. Apparently the break up had been expected with anticipation for some time, and the planning for the pity-party was in full swing, "They just broke up. They had a big fight this morning so I bought some magazines, now I am getting the cookies and milk. Yeah. They just broke up. Can you get the movies?" Then she was gone.

As I write this hours later, I figure that by this time they must have made quite a dent in the Oreos and Milk and read quite a few articles in all those magazines about taming that tummy. Surely, he has called several times, and her friends have told her not to take it. Eventually, my guess is, she shall take the phone call because of a short, but very sweet text message, and six hours later they will be back together again; the party will end. Some day in the future, maybe next weekend or maybe next month, she will need another Friday night with her friends, and she will pick a fight and the ritual will be set in motion again. Misery loves cookies (or ice cream).

My Oreos, on the other hand, will be going to school with me tomorrow to be presented to the winner of the Second Page Club.


Peace

..._