When I was four or five years old I would wake up every morning and eat oatmeal with my dad. I have only vague images of this, which are themselves probably simulations based on stories my parents told me many years later. That said, the feeling of heading down the stairs to share oatmeal with my dad remains in that space between true recollection and fabrication, and is one of my favourite stories about me.
Apparently, I was a voracious eater of oatmeal.
There’s nothing more boring than someone extolling the virtues of eating breakfast, and I’m happy to say that the fact that it’s The Most Important Meal of the day and Vital for a Healthy Lifestyle does not factor at all into why I love it so much. Breakfast could be linked to cancer and I’d probably sneak two or three a week.
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