A couple of weeks ago Elijah decided he wanted to have two cold pop tarts for dinner. Of course, being the good mother that I am, I told him no. He continued to argue and refused all suggestions for dinner. After hearing enough, I sternly told him that he was not getting pop tarts for dinner, period. He proceeded to burst out crying and went to his room. About five minutes later, I went into his room to check on him. He was in his bed under the covers, crying. I sat down on the edge of the bed. He threw his hands in the air and said, "After all the fun we have had in this family! What did I do to deserve this?!"