Sad State of Affairs

It's really pathetic when your three-year-old says to you as she is finishing up breakfast, "Mom, do you think when you drop me off at school you could go by the grocery store and get some cereal and some juice because that's really what I've been wanting?" I mean, really, is that too much to ask?!

This came on the hills of other breakfast trauma which was this:

Ruth was downstairs having breakfast. I was upstairs feeding Weston. I hear Ruth whimpering, so I call out, "Ruth, what's the matter?" No answer. "Ruth, what's wrong?" Only footsteps on the stairs in response. Ruth appears in my room and I ask again what's going on. Ruth replies with a slight tremble in her voice, "I just bless-youed, and I got snot down to here" (pointing to her chin). That's enough to make anyone want to cry.