When I was six, I loved Cheerios.
Each morning I’d fill my bowl to the brim. Then I added way too much milk, which floated the cereal over the edge of the bowl onto the kitchen table.
I would pick up each milk-wet Cheerio, stick it between my lips, and loudly suck it down whole. Until there were no more on the table. Then I’d add more milk, which would cause more Cheerios to overflow, and I’d slurp them down as well.
About that time, my father would whack me on the head with his newspaper.
That was my favorite part.