Monkey Brains Shouldn’t Replace Mom’s Brains
Posted by Robin Wheeler-Barber on Kids Cuisine.
I swore I’d never be one of those moms who caves to the whining in the cereal aisle. I don’t care if the sugar-sweet, brightly-colored cereals are on my child’s eye level, beckoning to her with a toucan’s song. I will not succumb to the blatant marketing aimed at small children, and I most certainly will not give into the Nag Factor. No. We will be a smart family. Astute. Educated, witty and urbane. Hip, even. There is nothing hip about giving in to the General Mills marketing machine.
Ooooooh, this oatmeal’s called Monkey Brains! Monkeys are hilarious! Brains are gross and therefore even funnier!
My four-year-old wasn’t the one begging for the $5/box oatmeal (on sale). Instead, I was snatching a box of the raspberry-flavored oatmeal off the shelf, shoving it in my daughter’s face and shrieking, “Monkey Brains! How funny is that? Should we take some Monkey Brains home?”
She really didn’t care either way, which is her general response to any oatmeal product. I figured that, if I can convince her she’s eating real monkey brains, there’s a chance she might actually get some oatmeal in her system.
That, and I like monkeys a lot.
I made the first bowl of the instant oatmeal, which turned pink from the presence of dried raspberries. That’s cool, but it doesn’t really look like the two servings of fruit touted on the box. What do I know? I went to culinary school and yet I just purchased a processed food based on the packaging.
I can’t vouch for the presence of prebiotics and probiotics, since I have no idea what they look like. Nor do I know how they got into the oatmeal. I do like the presence of cane sugar instead of the usual sweetening agents, although I’d prefer no sugar at all. What’s wrong with adding my own honey to plain oatmeal? Or my own dried raspberries, for that matter?
The real test was whether my oatmeal-resistant but raspberry-loving child would eat the stuff. I sat it before her, she let a big dribble drop from her spoon, took a small tentative bite, flashed the fake grin she uses when she’s had an obligatory bite and has no intentions of taking another, and asked if she could have some yogurt instead.
I ate the Monkey Brains, which tasted like… instant oatmeal. A $5 box of instant oatmeal that I allowed myself to be suckered into buying just because I liked the name of the product and thought it would be cool to eat Monkey Brains.
I’m 35 years old, but the Monkey Brains people know that my age group is just as vulnerable to marketing as our children. They even say so on their website. In a section where they lay out what consumers need and what they provide, they blatantly state it. “Moms are desperate for healthy foods kids will eat.”
Obviously.
