Like you, perhaps, I've had a long and primarily joyous relationship to breakfast cereal. I reached childhood just as the transcendent sugared cereals hit the market. I was conceived in 1962, the year that General Mills combined Cheerios with Circus Peanuts to give the world Lucky Charms, and Cap'n Crunch and I were both born in 1963, a fact which I celebrated bowlfully deep into college. My brother, Toby, was conceived a year later when Froot Loops were rolled out, and he outlived his birth-year twins, the Cap'n wannabes alien Quisp and miner Quake, by nearly three decades [the brand was relaunched in 1999 -- Ed.].

Since my brother and I were so close in age, for me cereal and sibling have always been intertwined. We were a family built to fuel the marketing juggernauts of processed foods during the 1960s and 1970s, and my brother and I competed both in the aisles and at the table. A devotee of the brown sludge that remained at bowl's bottom, Toby poured excess milk at the outset and then retained it through repeat servings of Count Chocula; I found this practice despicable, and instead poured just enough cold, fresh milk to get me through each of multiple bowls of Franken Berry. Of course, our rivalry was reasonable: like all sensible children at the time, we were in complete agreement that late-comer Boo Berry was an ill-conceived, poorly balanced product that only wicked losers ate.

Hahaha What a great read...