We Spend at Least Two Nights a Week at the Cereal Bar

When Willow was very small and Sydney but a babe, I would sometimes take the girls to this place downtown called The Cereal Barn. It was a cafe that had a billion kinds of cereal and a billion kinds of stuff to put on cereal, and you could get as many kinds of cereal and stuff to put in it as you wanted in your bowl. I was quite fond of Coco Puffs, Honeycombs, and Golden Grahams with sliced bananas, walnuts, and soy milk. Willow would eat anything as long as you poured chocolate milk on it. And then she'd play with a bin of toys, and I'd eat my cereal, nurse the baby, and sense that someday the world would stop exploding around my head. It was heaven. I loved that place. I ADORED it.

And then it closed.

Fast-forward three years. Cascadian Farms, for some reason, has their cereal on CRAZY-huge sale, and so although normally I never buy it at all, now I buy, like, two boxes of everything every time I go to the store. And I also don't really like to cook. And thusly, a revelation strikes:

I could have my own cereal bar. Just like Cereal Barn.

We didn't have a billion kinds of cereal, but we had at least eight, plus bananas, frozen blueberries, walnuts, and soy milk:The babies had a spoonful of everything, heavy on the blueberries, light on the soymilk:I had cinnamon grahams, Puffins, granola, blueberries, and carob chips, heavy on the soymilk:

I loved it. I ADORED it. It's in heavy rotation on the menu now.

All I need is a storefront.