When London will not eat one thing I give her, Cheerios save us. They are like little life preservers floating about on the table top, saving her because they give her sustenance, saving me because she is actually eating something.
I’ll hand London some Cheerios wherever we are. She drops half of them on a good day and 75% of them on all other days.
I can’t let them go to waste. I will eat them off the carpet, the kitchen floor, from the couch cushions, from the bottom of her activity saucer, and from inside her onesie.
There are two places I won’t eat Cheerios from. One, the bathroom floor. This has only happened once as I have never fed London Cheerios in the bathroom, but I mush have carried one in there on my clothing. I found it today.
And two, from inside her diaper. Found one of those yesterday.
And you can forget about the five-second rule. I am confident I have eaten Cheerios that were several days old, maybe a week. It’s easy to tell when you get one of those. They have entirely lost their crunch.
My Cheerios consumption is up 1000% over last year. I suspect that as London grows older it will steadily decline from the current stage, which, I would guess, is at peak Cheerios flow.