Hark, we have entered the Cheerio Era. Last weekend, we purchased the first of what will surely be hundreds of bright-yellow boxes over our son's baby- and toddler-hood. It's safe to say that Harper is already officially a Cheerio junkie. And I am a fan, too, not only because I think it's so dang cute the way he picks up each piece of cereal individually with his little pincer grasp, focusing all his energy on getting his hand up to his mouth and then the cereal out of his hand and onto his tongue--sucking it out of his fist if necessary--but also because of the time that such a pursuit buys for me. The other day the two of us went out for lunch. At a real restaurant. After placing my order, I fed Harper--one of his new favorite meals, applesauce with a bit of roasted-beet puree mixed in--and then asked the server to bring me a clean plate, onto which I placed a dozen or so Cheerios. The kid entertained himself with the Great Cereal Hunt of 2006 while I savored a warming bowl of curry noodles and a cup of tea. It was a thoroughly civilized mother-son outing--even if we did leave a trail of slightly moistened Cheerios scattered on the table, the floor, the high chair, the booth seats....