Everyone needs to pull her weight. Or eat her weight.

“Snap, crackle, pop”? More like “Crunch, crunch, crunch” as they’re stepped on.

I told my six and four-year-old girls that, no, they cannot open that new box of cereal they want until they finish some of the plethora of nearly finished cereal boxes we already have. They agreed and began eating some of the old cereal without complaint, so I walked away to get some work done.

After a while I decided it had gotten rather quiet in the kitchen. Too quiet.

When I went in to investigate, the girls were still eating their cereal, as quickly as could be, but the oldest had also made additions to her baby sister’s food. The 19-month-old’s high chair tray was littered with three different types of cereal, as was her lap, and her hair, and the floor all around her.

Apparently trying to enlist the baby’s help, my daughter had poured a small mound of different cereals in front of her. The plan was effective only in that I had to sweep most of it off the floor, and when I lifted the baby from her high chair, a deluge of Rice Krispies rained down once more.

I made the oldest help clean up.