It's one of my best, warmest memories from back in the day when I wore the skin of a kid.

The big orange school bus (Jake was the driver...I know...he made me sit up next to him quite often) would drop us off, one by one (or two or three) at the small farms that dotted the area around Leota, Minnesota.  Off I run, back down the gravel driveway, pat our dog Sarge on the head, and then into the house.

Mom would ask how school was ('Oh it was fine" I'd say, and then think 'As long as you don't talk to Mrs. Eernisse').

I'd head to the pantry, pull down the box of Wheaties, grab some milk out of the fridge, head for the metal kitchen table and spread out the Worthington Daily Globe (always a day late to us farm-folk in those days).

Wolfing down the 'Breakfast of Champions' and reading how my Twins did the day before (well, the paper was a day late, so actually the day before the day before).  Only one thing could make it all even better.

A prize with the Wheaties!

Now, often times, it would mean sending in some boxtops with a quarter to some faraway magical place called Battle Creek, Michigan.  But once in a while, just every so often, the prize would be in (or on) the box!

Check out this classic commercial from the 1950's.  This would be nirvana, the proverbial gold at the end of the rainbow.

Not only great tasting Wheaties....but a Mickey Mouse Record right on the box!!

Please Please Please Mom, can we get a box???

Oh, it doesn't matter we don't have a record player...but someday we will!


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