Niranjana, Melissa and Andy

People who don't know us well watch Niranjana run around or otherwise do her thing — at a park, or at the grocery store — and we get remarks like "she's so cute" or "my, she has a lot of energy."

Yes to both, I say. She's cute 95 percent of the time.

Yesterday we got that other 5 percent.

We're smart enough now to know these episodes are tied to a lack of protein, lack of sleep, and/or irrational belief that we've been paying more attention to her friends than we have to her. We usually can spot them coming and head them off with a "yogurt tube" (Go-Gurt).

But sometimes they whirl out of control. The worst one ever was earlier this spring when Grandma and Grandpa were visiting. I still shudder at the thought — but appreciate that my parents let me deal with it.

See, Niranjana doesn't respond well to time-outs. She simply refuses to sit in a chair and stay quiet even for one minute (let alone six). My theory is that parents who've had their children from infancy and have trained them in the value of the time-out chair seem to have better luck with this technique, although it doesn't stop me from trying.

Instead, Niranjana starts a downward spiral of whining, crying, wailing and agitation, generating extreme frustration for the parents. We keep trying to explain that a brief time-out taken immediately will save her a 30-minute fit later on, but she doesn't quite comprehend that. So we start taking away privileges — toys go up high, fun activities are denied — while the other parent makes a high-protein snack. Yesterday it was lunchmeat and crackers.

Once she calms down enough to eat, things improve within minutes. Sure enough, we had a happy girl the rest of Saturday afternoon. She helped me sweep out the garage, she played soccer with Andy, we read her National Geographic Little Kids magazine.

But she still didn't get to go on a bike ride or play Wii. Despite how it sometimes seems and feels, we aren't complete pushovers.