Pass the Pop-Tarts, please

My wife Liz, bless her naive little heart, is under the impression that I’m the only adult who likes Pop-Tarts. She believes the sweet toaster pastries are designed to appeal to a child’s taste buds, so adults don’t really care for them. This theory ignores the fact that most men, being kids at heart, would gorge themselves on Count Chocula cereal every morning if we thought we could get away with it.

Liz may be on to something, though. Even I, a lifelong sugarholic who eagerly wolfed down all manner of Pop-Tarts in years gone by, can only stomach one of the many flavors nowadays: frosted brown sugar cinnamon. Does this mean I’m slowly emerging from gastronomic puberty?