If this were an actual test of your sanity, this procedure would be conducted by a trained professional and NOT a three-year old. It might also come with some sort of medication.

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"What's that?" she asks.

"A mosquito," he replies.

"Why is it a mosquito?" she asks.

"Because it's a mosquito," he adds.

"But WHY is it a mosquito?" she continues. For ten minutes.

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"Alexis, stop trying to put a barrette in Meg's fur," I scold.

"I just making her pretty," she replies.

"Stop. it. now." I say.

"But I just make her pretty!" the child counters.

"If you start another sentence with 'I just' you're going to time out," I say. This is a common threat that I'm not afraid to follow-up on because "I just" makes me sporky.

"She likes it!" she replies, simultaneously continuing to argue and yet actually following directions.

"Leave Meg alone, NOOOOW!" I yell.

"She wants me to make her pretty," she replies, right before she begins the trek to time out.

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"Eat your dinner," I tell her.

"I'm not hungry," she says.

"Take a bite of your pizza roll, Alexis," I reply.

"But I'm not hungry!" she says. She continues, "Can I have a popsicle?"

"Absolutely not. Eat your dinner," I say as my eyes roll out of my head.

"But I want a popsicle!" she counters.

"Eat your dinner and you can have a popsicle," I say.

"But I'm not hungry!" she proclaims.

"Alexis," I glare, "Are you hungry enough to eat a popsicle?"

"Yes," she replies, eyes open wide.

"Then you're hungry enough to eat your pizza roll," I say.

"BUT I'M NOT HUNGRY!" she screams.

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"Mommy, I want some water," she says.

"Where is your water?" I ask.

"In the fridge," she says.

"Then go get it," I offer up the simple solution, which also might be the lazy one.

She walks to the fridge, opens it, and finds that her water is not where she expected. She returns to the living room and begins her chant. "My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there. My water wasn't there."

If you think I'm exaggerating about how many times she repeated that statement, you obviously have never met a 3-year old.

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I'd ask when the sanity test will end, but I already know the answer--Ten minutes after my head explodes. In other words, WAY too late.