A liberal amount went into the finished oatmeal. She then stirred it until it swelled to twice its original size. She resisted the urge to taste it and instead smelled it. It smelled of sweet apples and cinnamon, and it wasn’t distinguishable from a bowl of oatmeal without a ridiculous amount of synthetic dietary fiber in it.
Once she finished making the snack, she admired her work. The milk in the glass looked off for some reason. There was nothing wrong with it, but the presentation didn’t look like it was being served to a captive Little. She rummaged through the cabinet and found a baby bottle and carefully poured the milk inside. She then set it back on the table.
“Carley! Your bedtime snacky-poo is ready!” Crystal called.