Cheerio...Cheerios

My dear Cheerios,

I'm so over you.

I just can't take it anymore.

I loathe seeing you sitting around on the couch.

I abhor the way you manage to always adhere to the butt of all my pants.

I detest the sound of you hitting the floor and I despise the crunch of you under my feet.

I hate the way I think you're gone, and then there you are again, hanging out under the couch, behind the bookcase, in the bathroom, or driving a dump truck in the playroom.

You know what's coming. I'm kicking you out again. Banning you from breakfast.

The dust buster and I? We've had it. It's high time we took a break from your bran.

*sigh*

I try to act so tough, but you know in the end [or in a few weeks when we've had our fill of waffles] I'll always take you back. I just can't resist those honey nuts or those fruity tendencies [but the yogurt? gross] . Lucky for you I'm fickle, I tend to forget your irritating crunch under my feet and only remember your sweet aftertaste when faced with the prospect of getting a free race car in return.

O, my little o's, how I love to hate...

...and hate to love.