I have this fleeting childhood memory of you and Barney Ritchen - yes, our old across the street neighbor - making me breakfast in our kitchen. Why I'm not sure, but I absolutely trust the validity of this memory because, to be honest, I don't remember you ever making me breakfast at any other point in life. Not a complain, just a statement of fact.
You made me oatmeal, and I asked for brown sugar on it. I am not sure if the brown sugar was tough / clumpy / hard to scoop or what, but it took both of you to accomplish this, and the brown sugar you gave me was a lump about the size of a tennis ball.
I told you "that's way more sugar than mom lets me have." You and Barney were giddy and laughing - apparently making oatmeal was hilarious. I can still remember the good vibes from the morning vividly.
Now that I'm an adult with ostensibly healthier eating habits, I have honey on my oatmeal. Not as delicious, and certainly not as funny.
xx
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