Evie is after me Lucky Charms
"They're always after me Lucky Charms!" the little Irish leprechaun exclaims in TV commercials.
If the charms are missing, our Evie is a likely suspect.
She can't resist the tiny marshmallows shaped like hearts, moons, stars, clovers, horseshoes, pots of gold, rainbows and red balloons.
She picks them out and leaves a cereal box full of bland-looking oats, which no one will eat.
Every time Mom buys a new box, Evie promises to turn her life around. And every time, Evie falls victim to the magical charm.
Finally mom had enough of wasted cereal and cut off the supply.
No more Lucky Charms.
Days became weeks.
Weeks lingered into months.
Four charmless months passed as the girl endured her dad's Frosted Mini Wheats and her siblings' Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Mornings became a sad affair during this dark period of local breakfast history.
Finally Evie resolved once and for all that she would reform.
She turned to her mom, eyes filled with sincere remorse, voice tinged with hope, heart yearning for mercy.
"I've learned from hard experience," she said.
So Mom returned from Kroger with a new box of Lucky Charms.
Would Evie hold to her pledge? Or would the leprechaun's magic prove too powerful?
It's clear that her weakness might be genetic, or at least a product of her environment.
Big sister picks the raisins and M&Ms out of the trail mix, leaving nothing but peanuts.
Big brother drinks all the apple juice and returns the empty carton to the refrigerator, perhaps to keep the carton fresh.
Mom swipes the crosswords and sudoku pages, leaving dad clueless about an entire section of the newspaper.
There seems to be a pattern here.
What's that over there on the kitchen table?
An abandoned bowl full of cereal.
It looks a lot like Lucky Charms, minus the charms.
General Mills says its cereal is fortified with 12 vitamins and minerals, and is a good source of calcium.
For Evie's sake, lets hope it's all in the marshmallows.