My girls have always been inordinately obsessed with Michael Jackson. I have no idea why. I think it started when I showed Anna Thriller at the tender age of three and then she asked to watch it pretty much daily for like a month. (Don’t you love when people say they have no idea why something happened and then proceed to give a perfectly plausible reason why the thing happened? Yeah, I hate that too. I have no idea why. I think it’s because it’s STUPID. Yet, I do it all the time for some reason. I have no idea why. Seriously.)
Anyway, the following was a short exchange between my girls:
Viva: Mommy, can I have more cereal?
Wife: Sure, sweety, what kind do you want?
Viva: I want Michael Jacks.
Wife: You want what….?
Anna (interjecting): They’re not called Michael Jacks, Viva. They’re called Fruity Jacksons.
Wife: …Do you mean Apple Jacks?
And the girls nodded in agreement. And then they enjoyed the fruity flavor of corn-based sugarfied cereal. Mmmm.