Re-thinking That Whole "Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam" Thing

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent.)

This was supposed to be a FABULOUS Sunday.  The lesson was:  "I Am Thankful for Fish".  How awesome is that?  I was set with fishy crackers (the rainbow kind... no skimping going on here), some Swedish fish candy, bubbles, the fishing game that spins around and you have to catch a fish as it opens and closes its mouth, and a fun picture book about "Who Swims?"  I'm telling you, Sunbeams everywhere were going to feel goosebumps of joy run up their spines just knowing that somewhere in Texas a few of their comrades were about to take part in something incredible.

But nooOOOooo.

We somehow manage to muscle through Sharing Time, which is just painful for these little guys.  They have to sit quietly for over an hour in Sacrament Meeting and then come to Primary and sit still for yet another hour.  Like I said... painful.  But we make it through and we joyfully march down to our classroom.  I begin class our usual way by pulling out the brightly colored, magnetic foam circles with their photos on them.  We go through each picture and call out their names.  "Is Mary here?"  "No!"  So we place her picture up high on the board to remember how much we miss her.  "Is Jacob here?" "Yes!"  So Jacob gets to place his picture on the board.  We go through each child in class and little Mikey decides that his picture needs to go up high.  I tell him to put it with the other kids' pictures but he insists.  He climbs a chair when my back is turned and puts his picture up high.  I make a subtle comment about how happy I am that all the other kids put their pictures in the right place and then I move on with the lesson.  I ask the kids if they can think of anything that likes to blow bubbles? 
Kids:  "Me!  I like to blow bubbles!"
Me:  "Can you think of anything that swims in the water that likes bubbles?"
Kids:  "Fish!  Fish like to blow bubbles!"
Me:  "That's right!  And who made all the fish?"
Mikey interrupts:  "I don't want my picture up high anymore!  I want it down low!"
Everyone else:  "Heavenly Father made all the fish!"
Me:  "Very good, everyone!  Heavenly Father made the fish, and, Mikey, we're done with the pictures now."
Mikey:  "NOOO!  I want to put my picture down!"
I pull out the little spill-proof bubble blowers and hand them out.  Everyone delightedly starts blowing bubbles... except Mikey who continues to try to climb up the chair to reach his picture.  I reach up and slide his picture down with the rest of the kids and say, "There, Mikey.  Now your picture is down low, too."
Mikey:  "NOOOO!  I want to put my picture up high and then move it down low!"
Me:  "No, Mikey.  We're done with the pictures.  Come blow some bubbles."
At this point Mikey does something that I have no doubt has worked like magic on countless adults through-out his many months of life.  He shuts down all communication and just starts yelling repeatedly, "I WANT TO PUT MY PICTURE UP HIGH AND MOVE IT LOW, I WANT TO PUT MY PICTURE UP HIGH AND MOVE IT LOW, I WANT TO..." over and over and over again.

Wow.

I learned a lesson long, long ago about moments such as these.  I must win.  If I let Mikey move his picture just so that I can have some quiet and move on with my life, there will have been a greater, more destructive lesson taught.  Mikey would have learned that in order to get what he wants in life, all he has to do is keep yelling.
That can't happen. 

I brought out the fishing game and passed out the fishing poles to the other kids and they happily started fishing.  I calmly looked Mikey in the eye and said, "Mikey, I am going to win this.  You are not.  You can keep throwing a fit and get sent out to the hall with another grown-up or you can calm down and play the fishing game with the rest of us."  Please note that through my whole explanation of what was about to go down, Mikey continued his banshee yell without so much as a second's pause to catch his breath.  I was slightly worried that he might pass out from screaming.  I said, "Okay.  You've made your choice." 
He changed his yell.  "NOOOO!  I DON'T WANT TO GO OUT!  I DON'T WANT TO GO OUT!" etc., etc. 
So he WAS listening.

I grabbed him around the middle, expertly turning his body into such a position so as to make futile his attempts at scratching, hitting and kicking me.  He used all 12 of his limbs (I swear they multiplied during this process) to latch on to every folding chair we passed en route to the door.  I somehow managed to open the door and pleaded, "Help!  I need help!!!"  Three adults came rushing over and it took all three of them to wrestle this kid to the floor.
I went back into class and expected to see all my other Sunbeams gaping at me in fear.  Instead, they were completely unaffected; just sitting around the fishing game trying to catch those fish.  Little Stanley looked up and said, "Mikey shouldn't be mean like that, huh, Sister Dotson.  He should come fishing with us."  All the other Sunbeams nodded their heads in agreement with Stanley's profound wisdom.
So, we learned a good lesson after all...  and I went home and took a nap.