For bag behavior
It's called Totes My Goats!
(Capra aegagrus hircus is the scientific name for goats)
There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He... keep reading on reddit ➡
Or at least it seems that way - shepherds and farmers have been point to their wagons, saying 'totes ma-goats'.
About a week ago I purchased one of those cheap checkout isle toys for my son. In particular it was one of the fan type toys that looks like a helicopter, with a small compartment of candy under the handle. Naturally he downs the candy and is toting the toy around for the next six or seven days, putting random items in the compartment. One day it is Lego's, another its rocks, another its dirt, so on and so forth.
Every time he puts something new in it he comes up and shows me what he was able to fit into the compartment.
This afternoon I was getting ready for work and drinking my coffee (night shift's this weekend), when he comes up to me with the helicopter. "Dad, look" as he is shaking the toy around with something rattling inside. "look, look". OK buddy, whats in there?
"CD's".... Huh? the compartment is smaller than a roll of quarters, how does he have cd's in there?
He proudly opens it up and goes "see theese... hahahaha", and just stands there waiting for my reaction.