Here is Eleanor, my darling baby girl. She has a wonderful laugh, a phenomenal smile and a temper that would make the real housewives of New Jersey blush. If Eleanor does not get her way her go-to temper tantrum involves throwing objects, screaming at an absolutely ear piercing decibel, producing rivers of tears on command and (assuming I am the one who has been so unreasonable as to deny her a cookie 5 minutes before dinner) running angrily away from me yelling "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" in the hopes that her father will be more likely to cave her to tiny iron will. If she runs out looking for Daddy and does not find him she returns to where I am (usually the kitchen) and continues to scream. If she still doesn't get her way she will open the drawer with her bowls and retrieve numerous objects to throw angrily at the floor. I think we may be in real trouble here. I can't help but have that country song play over and over in my head:

"She's gonna get in trouble
We're gonna get in fights
I'm gonna lose my temper and some sleep
It's safe to say that
I'm gonna get my pay back
If she's anything like me."

Well, at least my mother should be happy.