In Which Mommy is versus Daughter

It all started after nap/quiet time, when little Grouchy McGrouchpants came out of her room with a glare on her face. (This can't be good.) I tried to get her to smile, then tried to not make her smile (good old reverse psychology), and finally gave up. She then asked me for something to drink. Since she did it politely, I obliged, and got her a glass of water.

She took one look at the cup and dropped to the floor, screeching, "I DON'T WANT WATER, I WANT MILK!"

(Y'know, she could have specified that before I filled the cup.)

So, Choose Your Own Adventure Time! Did I:

A. dump out the water and immediately fill it with milk just to get her to shut up, apologizing for not reading her mind

or

B. wait for her to take a breath in the middle of whining and tell her she's not going to get anything else until she calms down

That would be a big fat B, folks.

And that's exactly what I told her.

So she kept on screaming.

I invoked the counting.

"NO! Don't count, Mom!"

I kept counting, she kept screaming.

I scooped her up and plopped her back in her room, saying she could come back out when she was ready to be nice.

BAM! BAM! BAM! KICK! BAM! "I don't want to be nice!" BAM! BAM! KICK! "Stop talking, Brother!" KICK! BAMBAMBAMBAMBAM!

And that's how it was for the next 20 or so minutes until Daddy got home.