2005, J. Z. Knight, A State of Mind, My Story, p. 402:
I was in a hurry, so when three Cheerios that had become glued to the floor wouldn't come up with the mop, I threw the mop to the side and tried to pry them loose with the toe of my shoe.
2004, Jennifer L. Leo, Whose Panties Are These?: More Misadventures from Funny Women on the Road, p. 47:
His weary mother dropped off a baggie of Cheerios and then looked for an empty overhead compartment in which to put, I hoped, the baby.
2004, James M. Lang, Learning Sickness: A Year with Crohn's Disease, p. 112:
I am standing at the counter contemplating these questions, watching Madeleine stare steadfastly into her unwanted bowl of Cheerios, unwilling even to look at me.
2004, Elin Hilderbrand, Summer People: A Novel, p. 49:
Beth adored the trappings of motherhood: the pacifiers, the wooden blocks, the Cheerios underfoot, the darling little outfits...
2004, Lu Hanessian, Let the Baby Drive: Navigating the Road of New Motherhood, p. p. 107:
Besides the baby's diapers and wipes, I have his car seat, his favorite books (Jamberry; Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?; Great Day for Up), his elephant and frog teethers, familiar toys and Winnie-the-Pooh rattle socks, a baggie of Cheerios, three jars of baby food, Tupperware, a bib, a spoon, two bottles, a Baby Mozart video, and a portable playpen.
2002, Mitchell Zuckoff, Choosing Naia: A Family's Journey, p. 242:
She said Naia had dropped some Cheerios on the floor then had picked them up and eaten them. The woman said she had asked Naia to stop, to no avail. So, she put Naia into the playpen. That way, if more Cheerios dropped, at least Naia wouldn't eat them off the floor.
1999, Christian Petersen, Let the Day Perish: Stories, p. 8:
They didn't find the marijuana, which was stashed in a Cheerios box sitting right on the counter.
1986, Clyde Edgerton, Raney: Novel, p. 158:
They've got sailboat steering wheels all over but I tell him they look like Cheerios or I ask him how his Cheerios feel, or what he's doing wearing Cheerios.
1978, Diane Johnson, Lying Low, p. 254:
All of us together only yesterday, thinks Theo — only this morning — and now how far away they are, with their little mouths, little round O's like Cheerios.
1977, Joyce Peserof, The Hardness Scale, p. 40:
It was an Olympic pool. The neighbor's is much smaller. When his children tire they run inside, leaving innertubes to float, Cheerios in a big, blue bowl.
