One of my favorite stories happened when my sister's son Karl was just a toddler. One day he was tired and cross. It was just about dinner-time and Julie was in the kitchen cooking. Karl wanted a glass of milk, but she didn’t get it for him quickly enough and he got more and more upset. When she finally stopped to get him the drink she took a sip from the cup before she handed it to Karl. That was the final straw and he threw himself on the floor, screaming.
Julie's husband walked in just at that moment. He had just had a long day himself and he wasn’t about to put up with one of Karl’s tantrums, so he picked up a glass of water that was standing on the counter and threw it into Karl’s face. Karl blinked, startled, but not put off, because he just looked at his dad, then shouted, "I wanted milk!"
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