Potato chips
This kid won't stop crying! She's five years old of endless crying! I can't take it anymore. Look at her. It doesn't matter what I do, she just won't shut up. Ever since her birth, her mother and I haven't been able to sleep until her fourth birthday. That's when we first gave her a little piece of magic that apparently shuts her up for a few hours. It was a blessing, but we've ran out of it.
So there she is, as loud as she has ever been, if not louder. Jesus. We're only two minutes away from the magic shop. My wife is giving me directions which I stubbornly refuse as a man should always do - my role is dealing with external world, and nothing's as external as the road. So please, woman, I wish you'd let me do the only thing I'm supposed to be good at! Ah, I see it from here. And there's a parking space. Thank you, God.
We're rushing inside while the little devil sits in the car, but we know it'll only be ten times worse if we fail our mission. So as quickly as possible, running through the correct aisles, we grab potato chips, purchase them and feed chip by chip into our little monster's mouth. Finally. Peace, at least.