A Good Old Fashion, American Tantrum

Seafarers often talk of the mysterious and unexplainable; like the rogue wave.  The inexplicable 100 foot wave of water coming out of an other wise calm sea.  Hit one of those last night, we did.  (Doing my best Quint from Jaws impersonation) 1,100 men went into the water, only 316 came out. ... toddler got the rest."  I don't know where it came from, but it hit hard.  It began simply, a request to put toys away and come have dinner while Gina fed the baby.  Arianna came and sat down just fine. ... Genevieve never arrived.  So I went to look for her and could hear her bouncing around in her room.  Walking in I noticed a bubbly, naked little girl.  "Me naki!" she proudly exclaimed.  "It's not bath time, sweetie, it's dinner time.  Get your clothes back on and come eat."  I was laughing, not angry, not demanding, not. ... anything really.  She immediately ran past me, a streak of white, and in to our room.  "Me naki, Momma!" she yelled out.  I came in behind her, cloths in hand and once again explained it was dinner time, we needed to get dressed.  As I tried to put her shirt on, in slow motion I noticed the eyes furrow, the bottom lip protrude and her entire body went limp.  It was upon us.  Time sped up again and it was too late. ... we were fully engulfed in hurricane Genevieve. ... a tantrum of epic proportions.  I ended up scooping her rag doll body off the ground and putting her in her bed, assuming she'd grow tired of crying over nothing by herself in the quickly darkening room.  Nope.  As Arianna and I continued through our meal, Genevieve screamed away.  And screamed.  And screamed. ... oh, and she also screamed a bit after that.  Door was closed.  No audience.  But she was unrelenting.  Finally, when Gina was done with Rosaline, she went in there and dragged her from the dungeon of her room.  Three times she tried to force her to apologize to me.  All I got a glimpse of was the top of her head as her eyes stared down and her body leaned the opposite direction of me.  It finally took me leaving the room before she would come and eat.  And after that, she was fine.  The storm had passed.  Leaving just as inexplicably as it had arrived.  I don't understand much, but I do understand this. ... kids are incomprehensible.