The Smaller Hooligan deigned to accompany to the grocery store. I sent him to the cereal aisle to make selections.
"Pick out anything you like that's under 7 grams of sugar," I cautioned.
He narrowed his eyes at me, "How about 14?"
"10, and not a speck more."
The deal was struck.
He was gone a long time. I got the chicken, milk, sour cream, eggs, ran into a neighbor--we were bemoaning the school budget woes at length when he re-appeared, empty handed.
"You couldn't find a cereal you like under ten?"
"No, You know that kind they were advertising on TV in the hotel with the cavemen?" (that would be fruity/cocoa pebbles--he is not acquainted with The Flintstones) "Well I found it, and the fruit kind has only 9 grams, but It looks like I'd be eating a pink turd. Why would I want to eat that?"
An excellent question.
He was very cross. It was as if those wily advertising agents had promised him a gift that he'd looked forward to eagerly, which had turned out to be gross.
We settled on mini-wheats and special K.
I think I won this round.