I am finished, Mommy, come get me

It was Wednesday this week when Cora decided to throw a humdinger of a fit before school.
She woke up too early, and had been downstairs playing with Daddy since 5. By 7:30, she was starting to wind down.

Quinn woke up, and Cora and I went up to get her. Cora wanted to get in Quinn's bed (a great trampoline with rails). After I cuddled and changed Quinny to go downstairs, Cora declared she wasn't finished. I picked her up out of the crib anyways.

Cora flung herself on the ground. She stood-up to jump up and down then flung herself on the ground again. She wailed and kicked. In a wonderful "mother-of-the-year" moment, I picked Quinn up, walked out of their room, closed the baby gate behind us, and told Cora I would come and get her when she was finished.

The fit lasted a good 20 minutes. Wailing. Crying. Kicking. "I don't like you's".

Then, out of the blue, I heard a sweet, angelic voice from the heavens (or the balcony of our house) saying, "I am finished Mommy. Come get me."

And just like that, it was done.

[Disclaimer: this fit happened in February, when I first started this post, and about the time I ran out of time to blog. The fit was thrown with such stunning and dramatic flair that I still remember it, like it was yesterday...]