The Growing-up Dessert

Last night, before sleep, I couldn’t get the jingle out of my head. This advertisement  from my childhood was vivid and catchy, only it had one major part missing:

• Blah, blah, speeelllll something,
• Blah, blah, speeelllll something,

Blah blah blah blah blah blah, the growing up dessert.

Blah blah blah!

Okay, a major part of that jingle was missing. What was the name of that mysterious product?

Again and again, I could hear/feel motherly voice of the singer, even her concluding note of smug triumph in the final repetition of that name. I recognized the powerful allure of a food that, supposedly, could help me grow up.

Gone are the years when I wondered if, through some horrible personal shortcoming, I might fail to grow up. And gone, apparently, was that jingle.

Googling tells me the product name must have been “Junket Rennet Custard” but I still can’t find the other three lines and, weirdly, at the end I have started to hear the name ”Ronzoni,” the jingle-friendly canned pasta.

Sigh! If you want to move into the present, nothing will land you there better than deeper perception. So this morning I’m going to do one of those celebrity aura readings you’ve been asking for, Oprah Winfrey.