The lion looks like a recently divorced dad who has his kids for weekend visitation. His kids are petulant, self-entitled little demons who vocalize their disdain for their father and his tiny apartment any chance they get and proclaim how much they wish they were with their mom and her new boyfriend. He can't afford the name brand cereal, so he presents the box to them with all the bravado his weary soul can manage, "C'mon kids! It's just like your favorite!"

"Fuck you, dad. We want Lucky Charms."

When I look at this box, I see a broken man.