After a lovely day at the playground, post-bath, post-nap, naked toddler in a towel, The First born looking stonily from her bed:
"Do you want to pick out your clothes?"
"No, I want Mama to pick out my clothes."
"Okay, how about these (pants & tee)?"
"NO! I don' want those!!"
"Okay, what would you like?"
"I want Mama to pick out my clothes."
"All right, E, this is was Mama has picked."
"NOooo!! I don' want those clothes."
"Well then, you pick them out," slowly beginning to see this fruitless conversation headed in a beyond belligerent direction.
"NOoooo! YOU pick them out!"
"I tried E, this is what I pick, you asked Mommy to choose for you, this is what I choose."
"NOOO!!"
"Okay, I love you, I tried to choose for you, now you can do it yourself."
"NOOOOO!!!  MAMA DON' LEAVE!!" as if there are rabid angry wolves in her room....which I have to admit it's a decent comparison as F was already confined to bedroom after losing her mind when I asked if she'd prefer a bath or shower.

I didn't want to leave her to the wolves, but I didn't have much choice. After toying with me that she would get dressed, but indecision won out over the urge to escape the room, her caterwauling got the best of me, I had to leave.
After 30 minutes or so, both of them screaming at me when I offered them an apple (figuring blood sugar  might be the culprit), they both eventually made it out of the room.  E needs a hug, and F is fighting her way through picking up the play room.  The burgers are done, and miracles of miracles we all survived and I'm still here.

I need dark chocolate, or a d*mn beer.