At Petunia's request, I took her to Wendy's for lunch today. (She was home from school, but the boys were not.) As we were ordering, a large man barged up behind us, planted himself right next to me (about three feet from my daughter) and started yelling obscenities at the counter worker while simultaneously waving a to-go bag in the air. "Why can't you &%^$ people ever get my &%^$ order right? I wanted a &%^$ chicken sandwich, not a &%^$&%^$ burger. What kind of &%^$ morons are you, anyway?" And on and on, up until the moment when he was handed his replacement sandwich and stormed away.
After we sat down with our food, Petunia asked me why the man was so mad. I told her that it was because he hadn't gotten what he ordered. Then she pointed out that she'd been given a chocolate Frosty rather than the vanilla one she'd ordered and that she wasn't yelling at anybody. Indeed. I asked her if she wanted me to take it back, and she said no and cheerfully ate the chocolate one instead.
Keeping things in perspective, first-grade style: that's just how she rolls.