sometimes you're abused by a three year old

Hi. My name is Laurie and today, on this day of days, I found myself abused by a tiny little curly haired person. It all started off so wonderfully too. A crisp Fall morning at a park with a wooden train under the slowly changing leaves. My mom. The kids. Food in my future. See? Doesn't it look perfect??

And then... Shortly after I took the above photo... I committed a crime which was worthy of her wrath. I was witness to (as well as dozens of other people) the most spectacular display of hysterics as I have ever seen. I couldn't bring myself to look anyone in the eye as I was slapped. As my hair was pulled. As she was bucking like a bronco in the stroller. As I carried her kicking and screaming (literally) to the car. Mortification at it's finest. 

The crime? Telling her she had one more time down the slides before we went to feed the ducks and then lunch. I know what you're thinking. I am an absolutely wretched mother. Feed the ducks? That sounds downright tortuous. Monster. 

As I stood outside the Jeep while she screamed from her carseat I pondered... Where did I go wrong? Not just The Incident heretofore described, but in general, with her?

I wish I had a good answer. But until one magically appears I'll be the one reading parenting magazines about "strong-willed" toddlers and diffusing tantrums. Anyone else? I'll bring the wine? No? Well. This was my Tuesday. How was yours?