And Two Boxes Of Cocoa Puffs

Exciting things to report today from the house of the Nat-Holbs!

Today I bought seventeen boxes of cereal at a 13-hour cereal sale.

13-hour cereal sale! It was announced on the radio last week, and I got so excited that I actually pulled the car over over to the side of the road so I could write it down. Thursday: BUY CEREAL.

And anyway, why 13 hours?

It really takes a 13-hour cereal sale to remind a girl how grateful she is to finally be pregnant, on account of a cereal sale in any other physical condition would be scandalous. Because what would I do with seventeen boxes of cereal if I were trying to stay skinny? Because cereal is my downfall.

The 13-hour cereal sale was hysterical. You enter the store with your cart, proceed to the giant pile of cereals stacked on pallets, circle slowly about the giant pile of cereals with the multitudes of other cereal shoppers, grab whatever looks good, realize you need to go around again for more of X Y or Z, and etc. It was a magnificent carousel of cereal! And then you go, "But do I really need four boxes of Mini Wheats?" (Probably.)

And then there are just seventeen boxes of cereal sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for someflappingbody to give them some attention.

Naturally, I sat on the couch instead and surveyed my puppies after a long day of accomplishing things and being pregnant in places.

Barney was giving me his wonk-eye from the floor, and Peter was investigating my laptop charger, sniffing it closely and then jumping back as if it could possibly karate chop him in the nose if he wasn't careful. And I thought, these are not normal dogs. What are we doing wrong here?

I turned my attention to the dumb one.
"Barney," I said, staring deeply into his eyes and holding his black beard firmly in my fist,
"Barney, you are sort of stupid, and you do really weird things, and people like to laugh at you. I am sorry to tell you this, but you get that from your mother."

Then I looked at Peter, who was making a very cross face at the couch cushion.
"Peter, you're a little rude and grouchy sometimes, and you tend to make people feel inferior, and sometimes you have no patience with your stupid brother Barney. You get that from your father."

And then I scratched their respectively stupid and self-righteous ears, and I thought about my day, and then I realized that, should my dogs be any real indication, this charming fetus of mine, for which I am about to eat a gazillion bowls of cereal, is totally in for it.