Anger and Artwork

Another day of babysitting.
This time, the little girl got really upset when her Mom decided to leave.  I've babysat for this family before, and yesterday she was fine, so I don't know what got her so upset, but she went ballistic in that impotent way that most children get.  I found myself thinking about the things my Mom would say to me when I was this way as a child: "I'll give you something to cry about."  (Or my Grandma: "I hit you so hard, your teeth go marching out of your mouth!") 
I'm a big fan of using psychology to deal with children.  I don't know much, but I've been consulting with Josie, and will continue to do so as this job continues as how best to deal with children.  My sense right now is that you shouldn't reward any bad behavior with any kind of attention, positive or negative.  So, the little girl sat in front of the door, screaming and crying for her Mom, and I let her.  I sat nearby reading a book, on the off chance that she did something destructive or ran out the door into the street so that I'd be close at hand. 
It was tough to concentrate on my book, but I managed through three chapters sitting there.  One of their pet cats came by and meowed at me.  She, on the other hand, would eventually get tired and just lay there, in front of the door.  Then she'd get enough energy back and start hollering again. 
I was glad that her Grandma, also in the house, is deaf.  Lucky thing.  It takes me a few minutes to get use to the screaming before I tune it out. 
The last time she had one of these fits in front of me, last year, she ran into her room and screamed in the same way, with the screaming becoming shorter and with longer gaps of silence in between.  She screamed herself so badly that when I finally went in there to check on her, she had fallen asleep.  I was hoping this would happen this time, though I was wary of her sleeping in front of the door.  This little girl doesn't have regularly scheduled naps, but I feel like she should.  I suspect her parents are just not around enough to enforce them, and babysitters like myself probably don't like to start fights. 
After reading three chapters, I moved to the couch.  She could see me sitting there watching her, so maybe making her think I was even less interested would help.  I read through a whole another chapter and I was starting a fifth when she finally got up, went to her room, and brought out a toy, and we started playing.  Like nothing was wrong. 
That took about forty-five minutes.
We played with this dress up doll that was basically an updated version of paper dolls, only the clothes and doll had magnets so they'd stick better.  Then we played with her cats, which I like.  I get the feeling I am already their buddy because they follow me into rooms and come up to me looking to be petted.  The little girl got out one of those toys that is just a strip of cloth with a bell on the end.  She would run from room to room and the cats would chase her. 
One of the things the Mom left me to do with her was to help her set up a toy that required some artistic patience.  She asked me if was arty.  I just told her no, instead of the longer answer of "I'm creative.  No one who makes arty would dare say they were arty.  It's a demonized word by anyone who does it past eleven."  Also, I feel like it's not my job to be your kid's art teacher.