When I was a toddler, we lived in Stanford, California in the married student housing attached to Stanford University. All the young mothers were usually on very friendly terms; they babysat for one another, socialized and such.
One day, my Mother asked me if I wanted a cookie. I had an absolute, shrieking, out-of-control tizzy fit. Just then, one of the neighbors came over.
“What did you do to her?” she asked.
“I asked her if she wanted a cookie,” my Mother replied.
I have been asked why I was so upset. Indeed, most toddlers are not easily offended by the common pastry. Who knows?
I was always “dramatic,” as my Mother put it. Maybe I was rehearsing for something…