One never knows what’s going on inside Bonnie’s mom’s shriveled, amyloid-clogged brain, and despite doing the same things in roughly the same order every single day, her routine is anything but, and it always leaves us guessing.

I could have told you she would wake up this morning, though I couldn’t have told you when, and that one of the first things she would do would be to pour herself a bowl of cereal. What I would never have guessed, however, is that she would use the second-largest bowl we have in our kitchen to pour her cereal into this morning. She’s never used that bowl for anything. Why she chose it this morning is anyone’s guess.

The orange bowl on the right is what she normally uses. I would estimate that she had about three times as much cereal this morning as she normally does, in one sitting, that is. She usually eats a second bowl about 45 minutes to an hour after the first.

Taking care of her at the end of her life is not unlike raising a small child, except she is incapable of learning, and I can’t pick her ass up off the floor. These past 26 years have taught me an invaluable lesson, though: I will never put my children through this.