A Story About Some Oatmeal

You know I love my morning oatmeal. It's one third of my precious morning ritual (the other two parts being Vivian and coffee). Well, on Wednesday my oatmeal smelled funny. Like, vomit-ish funny. But, it tasted okay, and I thought maybe the smell was my imagination. On Thursday, it smelled and tasted deliciously normal. On Friday, it smelled again. Same version on all three days: oats, walnuts, berries, splash of maple syrup, splash of milk.

The following conversation took place on Sunday with Vince while we ate breakfast (I was eating the aforementioned oatmeal, Vince was eating yogurt and cereal):

V: Dude, your oatmeal stinks.

H: I know, right? It smelled a couple of mornings last week, too, but I thought maybe it was just me.

V: It really smells. What did you put in it?

H: Just the normal stuff. [Getting up from the couch to test the individual components.] Walnuts. [I open bag and taste. They're fine.] Berries. [Smell frozen bag, all normal.] A splash of maple syrup. [I taste a drip. Yummy.] And a splash of milk. [Sell by date is just today, smells fine, but I don't drink milk by itself.]

V: I'll taste the milk for you if you want. But I doubt it's gone bad. [Vince tastes. It's fine, but we decide to dump it anyway, just because neither of us want to take a chance with the thing that must be making my oatmeal smell like throw up.]

As I reach in the fridge to grab the milk, which I keep on the middle shelf, I notice that I reach for Vivian's formula instead. I realize my mistake, grab the milk and start dumping what's left.

H: Oh. My. Goodness. Vince! Vince, I think I've been putting a splash of Vivian's nasty, super high calorie, loaded with iron formula on my oatmeal. Oh, my gosh. I couldn't have been. Could I? [Grab Viv's formula, which I make a big batch of each day, and smell.] Vince, I have been! Nooooooooo! I'm throwing up! Groooooossss!

People, it's true. In my morning rush (make coffee, microwave oatmeal, unload dishwasher, top oatmeal, reheat for 1 minute, pour coffee, prepare coffee, wipe counters, rush in to play with Viv while I eat on the floor next to her...) I must have been absentmindedly pouring a splash of Vivian's gag-me-with-a-spoon formula on my oatmeal. You can believe that when I buy new milk it will be placed on a shelf far, far away from Vivian's food.

No wonder she's not so keen on eating. That stuff is the epitome of foulness.