This Means War.

I am at war with a 3 year old. We have battles every day. Quite often.

She likes to try to get what she wants by whining and crying. Admittedly, at the end of the day when it's bedtime, I tend to give in a little because I just want her to be quiet already and GO TO BED!!!!

But today? Oh, no. Mommy ain't budging. Enough of this stuff.

When she doesn't get what she wants (and sometimes even when she's just being crabby), her typical modus operandi is to fall to the floor in a fit of apocalyptic rage (you've seen those pictures) and raise her arms up to the item she wants as if craving alms. But ain't no Jesus got time for that kind a cryin', so he, along with I, ignore her.

Tonight's tantrum docket? 1. Picking Pants, 2. I want a Popsicle Before Dinner, 3. I Won't Choose a Dinner, 4. Mommy, I Want YOU to Carry Me Down the Stairs, 5. I Don't WANT These Noodles.

Quite the list. All taken care of in about an hour.

It always begins with a complete breakdown. There's no progression of anger, no lava bubbling, no smoke wafting - just total eruption of the volcano ala Vesuvius style. If she doesn't stop crying, I put her in her room until she does, but the funny part about that is that she'll scream, "I'm all done crying!!!!" as she waters the carpet with her tears and snot. So I wait. I wait. She cries. I wait.

Exhibit A:

Let the battle of the wills begin! And for all of you out there who don't have kids and think this is so freaking easy? Shutty! Babysitting doesn't count, either. When they are yours for all of eternity, then you have the right to judge!

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" (typing this doesn't do justice to the nails-on-chalkboard-shrieking that she is capable of)

Me (shockingly calm):Avery, when you are done crying I will help you pick pants.

Repeat.......

Later - Me: "Avery, you may have a popsicle after you choose a dinner and eat it"

waaaaahhh, waaaaaahhhhh, repeat.

Later-later Me: "Avery, I'm glad you chose to eat dinner first but you can either have noodles with butter or nuggets"

Avery: But I want a popsicle for dinner!!!!!!!!!

Ugh. Repeat.

Later-later-later Me: "Avery, I will NOT come get you from the top of the stairs. You are perfectly capable of walking"

Exhibit B:

She may have still been crying, but gosh darn it she moved her little tuckus down the stairs!!!

Once she calmed down, she tried mixing the butter in the noodles which had cooled considerably due to her lengthy tantrum, so the butter was reluctant to melt. Big mistake, butter! Avery threw her spoon, and several noodles with it, across the kitchen!

Exhibit C:

Please infer the outcome.

Bottom line? And this is the most important part of it all...

I FREAKING WON! TAKE THAT 3 YEAR OLD LITTLE BABY WHO JUST NEEDS GUIDANCE AND PATIENCE! TAKE THAT LITTLE MONSTER OF VOLCANIC DESTRUCTION! TAKE THAT YOU TAZMANIAN DEVIL WANNA BE! I WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MWAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAA HAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Sad. I know. Stop judging me.