Last night, in a fit of overtired hysteria, Emma tossed a little stuffed cow into the air, where it got stuck on top some window blinds. We told her that daddy would retrieve the cow when she was ready for bed.
Daddy rescued the cow during her shower. Sadly, at the last moment before she would have been reunited, Emma paused, pajamas in hand, to demand the precise location of the cow. Another tantrum later, when she had finally donned those pajamas, we informed her that the cow was in the drawer of the coffee table.
She didn't believe it. "Daddy wouldn't put it there."
"Yes, he did, and that's where it is. Go get it."
"Oh no he didn't."
"OK, then don't get it. Go to bed without the cow."
"But I *need* the cow and it's NOT in the coffee table drawer."
Emma had numerous reasons for her position--the cow didn't belong there, the drawer wasn't big enough, and so forth. Inevitably, the debate slid into another tantrum, and still she refused to look, preferring instead to tearfully insist that daddy and I tell her where the cow *really* was. When we persuaded her to open the drawer, the cow popped out, and she was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "I knew it was in there."
[Her daddy reports that she said, "I knew it wouldn't fit in there" because the cow popped out when the drawer was opened. Either way, she sure showed us her determination.]
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