When I arrive at Miss Babysitter's house today? Scarlett is screaming. She is screaming, "I neeeeeeed iiiice creeeeaam!"
Miss Babysitter says to me, "She took her nap today..." YESSS! "...but I had to wake her up just now."
Scarlett is still screaming about the ice cream, which she cannot have because Mommy is here and it is time to go home. Miss Babysitter says, "You can have ice cream next time you come."
More screaming. I say, "If you stop screaming and ask nicely, Mommy will think about getting you ice cream."
It takes several minutes of "calm downs" and "stop screamings" before Scarlett actually listens. But she is still mad. She stomps out to the car. Then she refuses to get in unless she can sit in the front. I explain why she cannot do that. She glowers at me. I threaten her future ice cream privileges. She gets in the car.
I buckle her in, but I allow her to close the strap fastener herself. This is one of our daily compromises that allow her some independence. If I forget and do it myself? A fit will be thrown.
But today, Scarlett gets mad that I let her do it. "YOU want to do it!" she growls through clenched teeth, as though my letting her do it means I'm a terrible mother. Sigh.
She starts up the yelling about ice cream again. I try to be patient and calm about this. She was woken from her nap after an hour when she could have easily slept for another two. She is grumpy. Like a bear whose hibernation has been interrupted.
Finally I cannot take it. I scream, "If you don't stop screaming at me RIGHT NOW you will NEVER have ice cream again! BE QUIET or you get NOTHING!"
I don't hear a peep out of her again. Meanwhile, I have been starving since about eleven o'clock, and it is almost four. I drive to McDonald's. They are advertising new snack-sized McFlurrys. Perfect. I get her an M&Ms one.
As soon as we drive away, the thing starts to melt and puddle all over me. Even with the air conditioner on full-blast. I love the South in the summer.
We finally get home. I ask Scarlett to carry her McFlurry cup inside. She is all excited. "Does it have chocolate, Momma?" Chocolate is a super-bonus.
We get inside. I tell Scarlett I will put her ice cream in a bowl for her. I give her the part that has managed to stay frozen and stuck to the plastic spoon. I pour the melty part in the sink. Oh, crap. The M&Ms had all settled to the bottom, and now they are all in the sink.
I give Scarlett the ice cream and hope for the best. She doesn't notice that she has about 1/6th the number of M&Ms she started with. She eats her ice cream. She is happy. Meltdown over.