Cereal Killer

During these hot summer days when maiden aunts are subsisting mostly on smoothies and sandwiches, our thoughts naturally turn to food tales of yore.

The Scene: My mother's kitchen, circa 1983. Cereal is kept in a floor-level cabinet so children can serve themselves for breakfast and snacks.

The Players: Me. My sister Rachel, age 6. Our brother Aaron is 13 -- seven years older than Rachel and seven years younger than me.

Rachel: Maria, would you please get me some cereal?

Maria: You can get it yourself. I'll get the milk out of the fridge for you.

Rachel: Can you get me cereal too?

Maria: You can get your own cereal. Open the cabinet and pick the kind you want.

Rachel: I want Cheerios. Get them out for me, pleeeeeeeeease?

Maria: [opening cabinet and pulling out a cereal box] Okay, here you go.

Rachel: Open it.

Maria: Open it yourself.

Rachel: [never taking her eyes off the box] You open it.

Maria: Rachel, you're a big girl! Why won't you do this yourself?

Rachel: I'm scared.

Maria: What can you possibly be scared of?

Rachel: I'm afraid of monsters. In the cereal box.

Maria: What in the world? ... AARON!!!!