Sarah could have kissed the little demon.

As a tantrum went, it was earsplitting, repugnant, infuriating.

As a distraction, it was sheer, unadulterated genius. Inspired, really.

Every face in the lobby turned to the crescendoing storm of hideous shrieks with identical looks of horror, and she could see the gleam of phantasm spankings in some of their eyes.

His tiny arms lashed every direction, like the branches of a tree whipped to a frenzy by the passing storm of emotion. Little booted feet clumped and danced across the marble tiles like Fred Astair, beating out a rapid, intricate rhythm to a song only he could hear.

His poor mother began fluttering and wringing her hands helplessly, entreating with useless platitudes that did nothing to stem the tide of raucous sound. He had hit his stride, and nothing was going to stop him now!

No one even noticed Sarah tranq the security guard and slip through a door that very clearly read: “RESTRICTED ACCESS”

She was in.