"I hate you."

Today, I took the girls to the post office and then to Big Lots.  It was four pm, and as usual Eleanor was in full tantrum mode.  Walking through Big Lots, she had a serious case of "The Gimmes" a la Berenstein Bears.  "Eleanor wants candles."  "Eleanor wants towels so bad."  "It's snack time.  Eleanor wants a snack."  So, I said to her, "Well, Eleanor we are not having a snack now - you'll have to wait until we get home."  She looked down at the ground and muttered, "I hate you."  I was agape. 

"You hate me?" 

"I HATE YOU!" 

"Did you say, 'I hate you.'?"

"Yes.  I hate you."

Needless to say, I scooped her right up and we left the store.  We had a long talk about how she hurt my feelings.  That saying "I hate you" is not ever a nice thing to say, etc.  She apologized profusely, and by the time we got home, I'd cooled down enough to put her in bed with a kiss.  She slept for three hours.

Later on, at dinner time, for seemingly no reason, she looked at me then looked down at the table and muttered, "I hate you..."  Huh?  I nearly flew off the handle then and there.

So, Bill said to her, "Eleanor, did you say, I hate you?"

"Hate you."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Nemo.  Nemo says it.  He says, 'I hate you' to his own daddy."

Wow.  Relief.  So, she might have been mad at me, but she doesn't legitmately hate me of her own accord.  Yet.  Give her a few years.

And, as a sidenote, she may have a career in theatre, because go watch Nemo (which we did later to confirm the scene where the offending words are shown).  The downward glance and muttered words are absolutely exactly what she did.  Crazy.