September. A new school year. Brayden in fifth grade — his last year of elementary school, and the awareness of that is making me emotional in ways I didn't expect. My firstborn. My easy kid. The cheerful boy who makes friends like I make biscuits. He's ten and a half and starting to look like Dustin — the jawline, the shoulders, the way he stands with his hands in his pockets. He's going to be tall. He's going to be steady. He's going to be exactly the kind of man who opens car doors, because that's who he's watching every day.
Harper in third grade. The gifted program has her doing fourth-grade math and sixth-grade reading. She's eight and she reads Harry Potter and watches cooking videos and asks questions about food insecurity that I can't always answer. This week: "Mama, if everyone at the food bank learned to cook, would anyone still be hungry?" I said, "Cooking helps. But hunger is bigger than cooking. Hunger is about money and jobs and systems." She said, "So we need to fix the systems." She's eight. She wants to fix systems. I don't know if this kid is going to be a chef, a social worker, or the president, but whatever she is, she's going to fix something, and the fixing is going to be spectacular.
Wyatt in second grade. Still quiet. Still observing. Still painting Biscuit (though his artistic range has expanded to include: the garden, the kitchen, the storm shelter, and recently, a portrait of Mama that looks like an orange triangle with glasses and is somehow the most accurate portrait of Shelly Moreland I've ever seen). His teacher says he's "a deep thinker," which is the most generous description of a seven-year-old who sits in the back of the class watching the world with ancient eyes. He's deep. He's also seven. The depth and the seven coexist, and the coexistence is Wyatt.
Packing three lunches every morning — for three kids who are each their own complete universe — means I live and die by the snacks that cross all palates without argument. Brayden will eat almost anything with a satisfying crunch. Harper will interrogate the ingredient list. Wyatt will eat it slowly and silently and then ask, two hours later, if there’s more. This cereal snack mix has become the rare common ground: easy to make in a big batch on Sunday, portion into bags, and send off with all three of them into their very separate, very full little worlds.
Cereal Snack Mix
Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 10
Ingredients
- 3 cups corn or rice cereal squares
- 2 cups whole-grain oat cereal (O-shaped)
- 1 cup mini pretzels
- 1 cup mixed nuts or sunflower seeds
- 1/2 cup raisins or dried cranberries
- 3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/4 teaspoon seasoned salt
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat oven to 250°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet with foil or parchment.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a large mixing bowl, stir together cereal squares, oat cereal, pretzels, and nuts until evenly mixed.
- Make the seasoning. In a small bowl, whisk together melted butter, Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, onion powder, and seasoned salt.
- Coat the mix. Drizzle butter mixture over the cereal mixture and stir gently until everything is evenly coated.
- Bake. Spread mixture in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes, stirring once halfway through, until lightly toasted and fragrant.
- Cool and finish. Remove from oven and let cool completely on the pan, about 15 minutes. Stir in raisins or dried cranberries once cooled.
- Store. Transfer to an airtight container or divide into individual snack bags. Keeps at room temperature for up to 1 week.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 195 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 220mg