They all had a story to share.

The Viking told of his latest conquest. He stormed the castle and had a run-in with a knight over who would get the last turkey leg off the king’s banquet. They employed a wishbone to call a truce.

The caveman told of the time he was outsmarted by a brontosaurus. They bet on who could get the figs from the top of the tree first. The brontosaurus said he wouldn’t use his legs, so the caveman thought he couldn’t lose. He took the bet…and lost by a neck!

The lieutenant was just happy to be eating breakfast without the Sarge either mashing his nose into his plate, or stealing the plate out from under his nose.

The little red-headed girl lamented over the fact that the round-headed boy still hadn’t found the nerve to ask her out.

The blonde-haired boy and his tiger took turns shooting strawberries at the Viking’s helmet with their slingshot.

The orange cat, between yawns, was describing a nightmare in which he had turned into lasagne, and was torn because he couldn’t decide if he should eat himself, or not.

What’s that you ask? Was this all a dream? No, no. This all happened over breakfast. No really! It was all right there in the funny pages.

Growing up, Saturday mornings were for cartoons, and Sundays were for comics. I wouldn’t get up from the table to get dressed for church until I finished reading all of my favorite strips. Comics gave me material for my jokes and storylines for my pretend play. They also gave me some insight into the way adults think and behave. Hmmm…adult behaving like children. Sounds like a comic strip to me!

Tonight my daughter and I watched Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown. It got me thinking about all of the comics she missed out on because of my switch from print to digital media. I think the funny pages need to be delivered to the breakfast table again.