I'm praying it's a phase.
Please don't tell me otherwise... I couldn't handle it in my fragile end-of-the-day-with-a-raging-temperamental-three-year-old state. She wears me down like no body's business.
In the last two days I think I've marched her to the laundry room for time-out like 39 times. It does absolutely no good. On the contrary, it makes her angrier, like swatting at a bumble bee. Or hissing at a rattle snake. (I've never done that... but I imagine it's a bad idea.) She screams from the other side of the door, "I don't LIKE YOU! I'M GONNA BITE YOU!!!"
But of course I still do it, because I don't know what else to do! I have to do SOMETHING when she snatches Sophia's toy right out of her hands and then pulls her hair when she wants it back. Or when she turns over furniture because I won't let her have spicy chips for breakfast. Or when she purposely screams at the top of her lungs right by Finn's door as he naps because she wants to wear a "new" skirt today. Which means it can't be something we already have. And school's in 15 minutes. Where am I supposed to get the new skirt? Oh that is the LEAST of her concern.
She can be the cutest little miniature person with her miniature walk and silly jokes and sweet voice. She can turn me to pudding. But for the other 10 waking hours of the day, she is on a mission to drive me completely insane.