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It’s fascinating to watch a child discover language.  I’m always amused at the sentences that come out of my youngest child’s mouth these days.  It seems there are a thousand ways to express anger, resentment, hurt. 

Her favorite way to do that is to start shaking with rage.  Physically shaking.  She turns a multitude of colors, including shades of pink, red and purple.  I believe she stops breathing all together in this moment.  She resembles something out of Poltergeist. 

When she finally gets the sense back to breathe, she does so by taking in a deep breath and letting it all out by screaming, “I’M SO ANGRY AT YOU!!!” 

This happened the other day while we were at a museum.  Thankfully, it wasn’t a quiet museum, but I knew I was in for a fair amount of trouble when I could hear her screaming from the bathrooms.  And she was not in there with me.  Nor was she even in the near vicinity of the bathrooms. 

The melt down, I was told, was over the fact that she was running around like she was possessed, and my hubby decided she needed some time in the stroller.  Not a popular decision.

As I pushed Allie through the museum, telling her that her behavior was unacceptable, she occasionally turned in her stroller to glare at me and declare, “I’m so angry with you.” 

“That’s fine,” I replied back.  “I’m not too thrilled with you either, currently.” 

My little seething ball of anger. 

This morning, she swiped her sister’s coveted Kindle, and ran through the house with it, playing a solo game of keep away.  I demanded she return the Kindle, and she dropped it where she stood, and ran off again. 

“Allie Elizabeth,” I called after her.  “If I have to speak with you one more time this morning, you’ll be spending some quality time in your bedroom.” 

This is also an inflammatory statement. 

“THAT’S IT!” she screamed back, in my general direction.  She may have been colors of the rainbow, but she was in a separate room, and I couldn’t actually see her.  “I’M NOT YOUR BABY ANYMORE!

Well.  That’ll teach me. 

Five minutes later she was back at my side.  “Can I stir your coffee, Mom?” she asked sweetly. 

Next week I’m getting her tested for multiple personalities. 

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