I can’t remember what started it, exactly, but a few days ago I found myself in the middle of a very entertaining conversation about cereal.

And just in case you’re thinking that the last part of that sentence is clearly an oxymoron, I will explain.

I’m a fan of cereal, but I don’t buy it all that often because I have a husband who prefers hot food and a son who doesn’t like the same cereals that I do. So whatever cereal I buy usually ends up going stale before we can finish it, and if I’m going to shell out the big bucks for a box of high fructose corn syrup, then you’d better believe I want to get my money’s worth.

And don’t worry – I really do try to avoid the cereals with high fructose corn syrup. We much prefer the ones that are smothered in melted butter and then dipped in milk chocolate.

ANYWAY, somehow a couple of friends and I got on the subject of cereal last Friday, and since David was going to be out of town for a couple of days (which means I wasn’t even going to glance in the direction of my stove, much less turn on a burner), I thought cereal sounded like the perfect food for the weekend. My friends started telling me about a few of their favorite kinds, and I was so inspired by their suggestions that I actually made a list of cereals I’d like to try.

LIVING ON THE EDGE, I AM.

But first, some critical background information.

I grew up eating Frosted Flakes, and it remained my favorite until my sister introduced me to Golden Grahams when I was around eleven or twelve. Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini-Wheats were at the top of my list until I went to college, at which point I fell head over heels in love with Cracklin’ Oat Bran. At some point along the way I decided that it had too many fat grams or calories or something, so I put the COB on the shelf and moved onto less tasty cereal pastures.

I’ve chosen to block all those less tasty cereals from memory. Since they tasted like cardboard and all.

When I was pregnant I was completely addicted to Smart Start, and after Alex was born I returned to my Golden Graham heritage. A few years ago D and I discovered Kashi Go Lean Crunch, and it’s remained a solid favorite, along with the Kashi Oat Flakes and Blueberry Clusters.

By the way, this information is riveting, isn’t it? Almost as riveting as if I were to write a post entitled “Reflections On Soaps I Have Enjoyed Through The Years.”

ANYWAY, this past Friday afternoon Alex and I went to the grocery store, and in light of my goal to not turn on the stove, I couldn’t wait to try a couple of the cereals on my list. I bought these two boxes.

I would now like to report my findings.

(And please know that nobody asked me to talk about these cereals. I only do review stuff through BlogHer, and when I do a review through them, it goes on a separate page on my blog. Just so we’re clear. Aren’t disclaimers fun?)

(SO fun.)

Okay. The cereals.

Cheerios Crunch – Delightful. Not too sweet. Bits of granola, which are always a plus. Not nearly as sugary as a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, but way more flavorful than a bowl of regular Cheerios. Will definitely buy these again. A. liked them, too. This would be a really good dessert cereal, and if you’re unfamiliar with occasionally eating cereal for dessert, then clearly I have overshared.

Blueberry Muffin Frosted Mini Wheats – Enjoyable. Blueberry flavor smells a little artificial (because, well, it’s artificial), but it tastes a whole lot like the blueberries in blueberry muffin mix. Very filling and not nearly as sweet as you think it would be (which is a plus). Will definitely buy again – but only when we’re having company, because I’m the only person in our house who liked these.

So. All that being said – what are your cereal favorites right now? Any recommendations you’d like to share? Any hidden treasures on the cereal aisle?

I’ll just be sitting here making a list of my favorite soaps while I read your comments.

By lunchtime yesterday I was a wee bit stir crazy, so I asked Alex if he wanted to run a few errands with me. Since he, like his mama, has never met an excursion he didn’t like, he was all about some errand-running, and he had one VERY SPECIFIC destination to add to my list: the bookstore. We usually spend at least one afternoon a week hanging out in the kids’ section, and there wasn’t anything standing in our way yesterday. So the bookstore it was.

After a couple of quick stops, we pulled into the bookstore parking lot. I noticed a sign advertising their Alabama National Championship sportswear, and I may or may not have rolled my eyes IN THE MOST RESPECTFUL WAY POSSIBLE (I’m proud for the Crimson Tide and all, but I could use a little teensy break from the NEVER-ENDING SUPPLY of sports memorabilia, thankyouverymuch). We hopped out of the car, walked across the parking lot, and as I opened the door to the bookstore and let Alex go in ahead of me, my eyes landed on a display that was set up about two feet in front of the entrance.

The display was a two-tiered cardboard deal and probably about three and a half feet high – much closer to Alex’s eye-level than mine. And on the display? About thirty copies of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. You know. The one where the model isn’t wearing a swimsuit top and is (barely) covering her chest with her arms.

Now listen. I’m not going to rant and rave about Sports Illustrated and the swimsuit issue and the model who isn’t wearing all of her clothes. There’s a market for that. I get it. They wouldn’t publish the magazine and turn it into such a big media hoopty-do if they weren’t making a whole bunch of money in the process. And honestly, there was a time in my life (see: 20s) when I would’ve told you that magazines like the swimsuit edition weren’t a big deal. And then I would’ve hopped on my (admittedly shaky) soapbox and said something to the effect that anyone who was offended by that magazine (or any magazine with scantily-clothed people) just didn’t need to look at it – because, well, if someone has the freedom to say or publish something I don’t like, then I in turn can exercise my freedom to opt out of listening or reading.

(Oh, my precious live-and-let-live 20s.)

(I DO NOT MISS THEM AT ALL.)

But the kicker in the don’t-look-at-it-if-you’re-offended-by-it line of thinking is that it only works if you have the ability to reason from a somewhat mature point of view. To analyze. To look at a situation from all sides and figure out where you stand on it. And CHILDREN CAN’T DO THAT YET – which is pretty much why this whole bookstore display thingie left me feeling so frustrated.

Here’s the thing. The bookstore has a huge children’s section. It has a Thomas the Tank Engine train table, for crying out loud. It even has comfy chairs around that Thomas table so that parents can watch their kids while they play. So I’m guessing that, to some degree, the bookstore is trying to position themselves as family-friendly. They want us to feel good about taking our kids there. DID I MENTION THE COMFY CHAIRS?

Even still, I know that this bookstore isn’t a place to let children run wild. I wouldn’t let Alex go to the back of the store and browse through all the magazines because he’s six years old and there’s stuff back there I don’t want him to see (I’m talking to you, Maxim). Obviously his daddy and I try to protect him from certain types of media because THAT’S OUR JOB – a six year-old isn’t emotionally or mentally ready to deal with provocative images. In order to help him guard his little heart we have to help him guard his little eyes. That’s why we monitor what he watches on TV. That’s why we restrict his access to the computer.

And granted, we can’t protect him forever. There’s a whole bunch of stuff out there that, as parents, we’ll have to deal with eventually. There’s a whole bunch of stuff out there that he’ll have to deal with eventually.

But he’s six. And it’s not time for that yet.

The bottom line for me is this: I think that if you’re going to set yourself up as a business that welcomes families, putting magazines with a topless cover girl in children’s clear line of sight – at the one and only entrance to your store – well, it’s out of bounds. And to varying degrees, it’s not just this particular bookstore. It’s grocery stores (however, in the YAY, PUBLIX department, they put little plastic shields on top of anything in the check-out line that you wouldn’t want your kids to see). It’s big discount stores. It’s movie rental places. It’s drugstores.

And I’ve been sick and tired of it for awhile. SICK AND TIRED. Yesterday just happened to be the straw that broke this mama camel’s back.

So what did I do about it? Not enough. My first thought was that I should talk to a manager, but then I had visions of me getting all emotional and rattled and ramble-y, so I found a chair, pulled out my phone and looked up the bookstore on Twitter. And I sent them a message. I heard from them a couple of hours later, and they said they’d gotten my email address from my blog (I guess they clicked through from Twitter) and forwarded my complaint and to their customer service department. I appreciate that they followed up with me, but I’m still calling the store manager today. I’ll probably still be rattled and ramble-y. I don’t care.

If there’s any funny side to this little tale of bookstore woe, it’s this. When I first caught a glimpse of that display, I immediately glanced over at Alex to see his reaction. He was preoccupied with some Alabama National Championship water bottle or tire pump or plastic dinnerware, so I stepped back to the magazines and started flipping them so that the cover wasn’t showing. In retrospect the utter futility of what I was doing cracks me up, but at the time I was all, DON’T YOU EVEN TRY TO CROSS ME, BOOKSTORE EMPLOYEES, BECAUSE I WILL STAND HERE AND FLIP MAGAZINES ALL DAY LONG IF NECESSARY, OH YES I WILL, ARE YOU NOT AWARE THAT HUNDREDS OF SMALL CHILDREN WALK THROUGH THESE DOORS EVERY SINGLE DAY?!

About that time Alex dropped whatever he was looking at because he’d spotted something on the shelves right behind the display. In fact, he nearly tripped over himself trying to get to it. And sweet irony of ironies, do you know what it was?

Beth Moore’s new book. It’s #4 on the bestseller list, and A. was so happy to see her face on that first set of bookshelves that he grabbed a copy and said, “Mama! It’s Miss Beth! It’s Miss Beth! HERE’S HER BOOK! IN OUR BOOKSTORE!” I couldn’t help but laugh. Score one for Miss Beth.

But something tells me that, as parents, we’re going to be fighting battles like this one for a very long time.