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A couple of nights ago I was making meatloaf from a recipe that calls for a half a cup of crushed crackers (BEHOLD: I AM COOKING AND NO ONE HAS DIED. YET.) when one fell out of the package and fell to the floor, immediately splitting into a couple dozen pieces. I called for the dogs, because, you know, TREAT!, and when I turned around Coco, Chuck, AND MARLO were eating all the crumbs. And Marlo was not using her hands.

I was not the least bit surprised. Nor did I stop her. Because remember that advice someone gave me once? That you should treat every kid as if they are the seventh of ten children? That. Her older sister, Eustachia Marie, number four, she should have been around to fix that mess. Blame Eustachia.

Seriously, you guys, Marlo is that kid from that Parenthood movie with the bucket on his head who keeps running into the wall: