Score!

After climbing up on the bathroom counter and using the sink (and my new Dirty Sanchez soap) as a footbath for the fourth time today, Liza remembered that she can't actually get down from the counter without assistance, at which point she began screaming for me to come give her a towel.  I was in the middle of taking the trash out to the curb and had a giant steaming bag of used cat litter in one hand, so I told her she was going to have to wait.  That was when her head exploded, or at least that's what the outraged screams sounded like.  

When I got back inside she was still in full-on harpy mode, so I carried her to her bedroom and told her that we'd discuss the situation once she calmed down.  Oh, and by the way, that particular tone of voice means that it's time for you to get some rest.

I DO NOT NEED TO RESSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!

Um, yeah, that statement pretty much clinches it that you do.  Let me know when you've decided to quit screaming and writhing like a child possessed.  

I went down and read a book for a while, waiting for the mumbling and kicking of walls to subside.  When I got to the end of the chapter I realized that she had been up there for much longer than a usual time-out, and usually she asks to come out after a few minutes of navel-gazing and wall-thumping.

She had crawled into bed, pulled the covers over herself, and gone to sleep.

Praise Jeebus!  Yard sale pricing, here I come!