The Rice Krispies box has torn down one side and now the bag is bulging out, asking to be emptied. I yanked it too hard when I was pulling it out of the drawer. Never mind, I think, and I have an idea: we’ll make Rice Krispies marshmallow cakes after school. The kids are elated. We get the marshmallows and butter melting in the pan and it smells delicious. The littlest pours in the Rice Krispies and everyone has to go at stirring before they spoon the sticky marshmallowy buttery crispy mix onto a tray and push it flat with their miniature hands. But while the scene I’ve painted may sound idyllic, it’s not how it feels inside. I’m full of a strange fury. The colour is red. I’m ready to SNAP. My ‘Window of Tolerance’ has slammed shut.
