Apparently 2.5 years old is prime age for arguments. Since waking up this morning, I've had the following arguments.
1. Regarding apparel:
Me: Would you like to wear jeans and a t-shirt or the pink dress?
Her: I want... MILK!
Revisiting the conversation several minutes and a sippy cup of milk later, the conclusion was emphatically the pink dress.
2. Regarding leaving the house:
Me: Alright, it's time to go to school!
Her: I don't want to go to school.
Me: Would you rather spend the day watching me work and going to the grocery store?
Her: I don't want to go to the store.
Me: Those are the breaks. School it is then.
3. Upon arriving at school
Her: [sighting the building] SCHOOL! (Imagine the tone of voice used by the winners in the Publisher's Clearing House Commercials)
Me: [After pulling into a parking space and unbuckling her carseat] Okay, let's go in!
Her: NOOOOOOOO! (Imagine the tone of deepest dispair used by a crabby, PMS-y woman who has just discovered that the last cookie is gone)
4. Inside the school, approaching her classroom
Her: I don't want to go to my class.
Me: But there aren't any toys here in the hall.
Her: I don't want to.
5. Regarding apparel (revisited)
Her: [Discovering the previously rejected t-shirt and jeans] My t-shirt
Her: Take off my dress.
Me: No, you can wear the t-shirt tomorrow. You look pretty in your pink dress.
Her: I don't want to look pretty in my dress.
I don't really have witty commentary on this. I think it should probably, however, be noted that she nearly beat me there a few times. I'm over 30 and a scholar. Seriously. I shouldn't be defeated in a battle of wits by a 2.5 year-old.