If one day you find yourself wondering why I seem to be one burrito short of a combo platter, please consider the following:
Me: Good morning Jonah. I made you an omelet for breakfast. Why don't you sit down and I'll get it for you.
Jonah: I don't want an omelet.
Me: OK, would you like some cereal? We just got strawberry frosted shredded wheat. Do you want some?
Me: (I place the bowl of cereal in front of Jonah who is seated at the table.)
Jonah: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I don't want the milk on the cereal! I want it in a cup.
Me: (I suddenly remember Jonah's weird cereal preferences, swear I will never forget again, and dump the cereal in the sink, rinse and dry the bowl, and pour DRY cereal in the bowl and milk into a cup. I place both things in front of Jonah.)
Jonah: (apparently appeased)
Me: (Unload the dishwasher, check my e-mail, blogs, Dear Abby, eat the omelet originally intended for Jonah, clear the table of the other kids dishes, rinse and load them in the dishwasher, help Ethan get his lunch and backpack together and get him out the door, make beds)
Jonah: (whining, with untouched food sitting in front of him) Moooooooooooooooooom, I don't want this. Make me an omelet!