Mealtime with rambunctious young children

Scene from any random night at our dinner table:

Me: “Tomorrow I need to go--”
Sammy: “I want milk!”
Me: “to the post--”
Sammy: “I want milk!”
Me: “I know you want milk. Wait a minute, please. I’m talking to Daddy. So, tomorrow--”
Sammy: “Pweeeeeeease?”
Natalie, throwing her graham cracker on the floor: “Ah-goo, pbbbttthhh”
Sammy hops off his chair: “I go see Nye.”
Me: “Sammy, get back in your chair. We need to sit at the table while we eat.”
Ron: “I was reading about this new way to make hydrogen…”
Me: “Sammy, get back in your chair.”
Sammy, munching on Natalie’s graham cracker, which he’s scavenged off the floor: “Mmm, this is dewishus!”
I get up, pick up Sammy, and plop him back in his chair. Natalie flings her sippy cup on the floor and starts crying because she wants out of her highchair.
Ron: “and then the hydrogen molecules…”
I take Natalie out of her highchair and pour Sammy some milk with my one free hand.
Ron: “As long as you’re up, could you get me a napkin?”

After about 20 minutes of this, everyone else is finished eating. I sit down to eat my cold supper, while both Natalie sits on my lap and grabs at my food, and Sammy takes all the magnets off the fridge and throws them on the floor. Finally, when half my food is on the floor because of Natalie's help, I sigh, give up, and dump the rest of my food in the garbage. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember the days when I could enjoy a nice, hot meal in peace and quiet.