“There’s sour cream in my milk!” My brother, Cadin, cried out during breakfast this morning.

I looked up from my cereal in confusion. “Oh my gosh! I hope the milk didn’t go bad!” I thought, looking down at my half eaten bowl of cereal. “How could it have gone bad? I literally just opened it!” 

My dad interrupted my thoughts. “What are you talking about?” He asked my brother.

“There is sour cream in my milk!” He repeated, as if it was obvious. But it wasn’t obvious. The milk tasted fine so why was my brother telling us that there was sour cream in his milk.

“Well bring it over!” Dad instructed, obviously confused as well. Cadin walked over to the counter where dad was standing and showed him the milk. After checking then milk out, dad came to a conclusion. “It’s not sour cream,” he said. “It’s just the fat from the milk.” It makes sense since we buy whole milk. Everyone in our house in stick thin.

The news made me feel much better, knowing that I didn’t eat half a bowl of expired milk. Cadin continued talking about how much “sour cream” was in his cup. Eventually I just tuned him out and finished my cereal in peace.