I'm standing in front of the stove this evening, cooking dinner, when Chiara rushes up to me, grabs me by my collar and, eyes narrowed and teeth bared, raspingly shrieks:
"I. Neeeeed. Chocolaaaaaaate!!"
Then, as I stand there stunned, she releases my shirt, darts over to the small desk in the kitchen, grabs her car keys and her purse and launches herself out of the house and into the car.
She came back from the market ten minutes later and wordlessly, with furrowed brows, began mixing brownies from the mix she'd purchased.