A Little Dinner with Your Ketchup?

 Prior to having a child, dinner was a pleasant affair. We'd discuss the days events in a rational manor and occasionally, go nuts and eat in the family room with the television on. It was relaxing, calm, and something I looked forward to. Post child birth, dinner has become a distorted carnival of horror run by a violently unpredictable ringmaster with a crippling addiction to that horrible red substance know on the street as "ketchup". A typical diner might now unfold something like this:

1. A napkin is dropped on the floor and, in a vein attempt to retrieve it, a five your old's head is accidentally dipped into the large stockpile of ketchup on the plate.
2. In an attempt to wipe the ketchup from the aforementioned head, a five year old elbow is dipped into the same ketchup.
3. In an attempt to clean the soiled elbow, a glass of milk is knocked to the floor (explaining why we still use cups with lids)
4. A bright light flashes outside the window causing a ketchup soiled, milk stained five year old to make a mad dash for the window.
5. Every item between the table and the window is touched with a ketchup soiled digit. Including the walls, chairs, floors and, as impossible as it sounds, the ceiling.
6. Upon return, the first of several queries of "Can I be done?" is offered up.
7. After refusal of the query, the ketchup is cleaned off, a new napkin is provided and dinner is resumed.
8. One bite later, "Can I be done now?"
9. No
10. Two bites later, "Can I be done?"
11. The answer is inevitably, "Are you full?" which is greeted by an equally inevitable look of bewilderment.
12.  "Fine, you can be done."
13. And finally, the coup de main, "Can I have a treat?"

There you have it, 13 steps guaranteed to make your dinner a memorable one. Feel free to stop by and join us, just look for the house with ketchup smeared on the front door.  Oh and if you could stop by the grocery store and pick some of the red stuff up on your way, that would be great.