why shouldn't I cry over spilled milk?

When a child drops a full 8 oz. of freshly stirred chocolate milk in the middle of the kitchen and the milk and unmixed blobs of chocolate splash the cabinets, the refrigerator, a chair and the table, the trashcan and even the pantry door and slightly within the pantry, and then size 13 bare feet walk through it and beyond the approximately ten feet of puddle and splashes and leave footprints for another six feet or more before you call to the owner of the size 13 feet to stop, and then to calm the child down you stop mopping up long enough to get another of the individual sized chocolate milk sticks that you thought would be a fun snack out and pour another glass of milk and the child spills half the package onto the wet floor before getting it into the milk and then starts to walk across the wet and sort of clean part of the kitchen as if he wants to drink this milk in the carpeted den and you get him back but then find yourself kneeling and hand washing the floor with a rag around his legs as you discover that the milk and cracker crumbs under the table are making a pasty gooey mess together and by now the child is done with his milk and playing and you are still rinsing out washcloths and cleaning places you've never actually cleaned before (yes, you can now lick my clean baseboards) and you realize that by the time the floor is dry you'll need to start some dinner... well, why shouldn't you cry?