"Well," the mother said, taking a step to fill your vision with the back of her gargantuan heels, "since your father took so long in the shower, it's just going to be cereal again this morning!"
The kids chorus a cheer as they settle into their seats, then the woman's feet launch off again, carrying her from the room. Distantly, she ascends the stairs to have her delayed morning shower.
The father thunders around the table to fill cereal bowls, and you dash from cover. There won't be many crumbs dropped to the floor from a meal of cereal, so you need to get to that tabletop if you're going to gather any food for yourself.
That means a rush to the top, as the meal's not going to be going on for very long, and that's a very long way up. Your wingsuit doesn't allow you to fly upwards, but in these four months of survival you have developed other tools. Your grapnel-winch doesn't have the greatest reach, but with several quick bursts of ascent from chair leg to seat to table, you pull yourself up to marvel at the colossal children tucking into their breakfasts. They drag vast pools of sustenance into their hungry maws, and to your relief they are not too careful about splashing milk about themselves. A couple of massive hoops lie discarded near the children as well.
The father hovers nearby but doesn't pay the closest attention, so while he may wipe the spillages up you should have some time before that.
The cereal packet itself still looms like a sinister monolith, and you do have the tools to cut yourself directly through its carton if you want to go to the source and not near the kids...
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