Malachi (age 4) is learning the joys of dehydrated marshmallows. “Dehydrated marshmallows?” you may be asking? With your vocal inflection going up? at the end?

Yes. Dehydrated marshmallows. As found in the breakfast cereal Lucky Charms (r).

I walked into the kitchen last week and thought to myself “I sure would like some Lucky Charms!” I reached for the box, which was faithfully standing by in our pantry. Whilst grabbing a bowl, spoon and jug of skim milk, I began to make up a song. They lyrics went something like this:

“Oh, I wonder why charms are lucky
And where that leprechaun went
And how they dehydrate marshmallows
Hey, wait. This spoon is bent.”

I grabbed another spoon and proceeded to pour Lucky Charms ™ from its box to its new home, a bowl. I noticed the obligatory oats, yes. Plentiful were the oats. Have you noticed that the oats seem to be rejects from AlphaBits cereal? Is that a semicolon? Anyway, I couldn’t help but notice that what poured out of the box was less Lucky Charm and more Unlucky Ampersand. My song continued:

“Oh, I wonder why charms are lucky
And where those lucky charms went
And who took all the marshmallows
And where they all were sent.”

Upon closer inspection I did see one Lucky Charm. Just one. In a sea of terrible oats. These oats depend on the Charms to defuse their blandness. And they were gone.

Just gone.

“Perhaps I can send the box back to the General Mills factory for repair” I thought aloud, this time electing not to sing. My Lucky Charm levels were too low, especially for a song. I know you’ve all been there. “I wonder if these charms are in a separate bag, like when you make one of those instant wok meals where you add the sauce 10 minutes LATER.” Again, not there. No charms. No sauce, either. It was not looking good.

Because we’re on a grocery budget, I elected to eat the bowl of Lucky Charms, which was now the antithesis of Lucky since all the charms were gone. As I ate the oats, I wondered. I even sang my wonder aloud, like this:

“Oh, I wonder why charms are lucky
And if these oats feel sad
Sad that charms are missing
Hey, I need to give a call to Dad.”

After remembering that I needed to call Dad, I went back to pondering the case of the missing Charms of Luck (A Nancy Drew book). My bowl of lonely oats was now gone. I put the bowl in the sink and moved on with my day, which, looking back, contained an acceptable amount of luck.

A few days later, the mystery was solved. I walked into the kitchen and saw a child — Malachi — holding another bag of Lucky Charms in one hand and using his free hand to harvest charms. Charms ONLY, I might add. He elected to do what every child has done since that shady leprechaun made his debut on cereal boxes around the world. Eat the marshmallows only. Let’s face it: the oats are filler. And who elects to eat filler?

Adults, that’s who. We do what’s right, even when it tastes like horse hair.

The boy and I had a good talk regarding the importance of the cereal balance of the universe as well as the thoughtfulness of eating an appropriate oat-charm ratio in order for the next person to do the same. He seemed to understand, his spittle being rainbow in color and his dehydrated marshmallow levels being rather elevated.

“Oh, I wonder why charms are lucky
Oh, I think I found out why
Charms are lucky ‘cuz they taste real good
Especially to Malachi.”