The Famous Mr. Ed!

Or Boo, as the case may be.
For the first time in my parenting career, long and illustrious as it has been, I have a foot stopper.
"Hey, Boo! Would you pick up your toys?"
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
"You only want to pick up four toys? There are forty out--try again, buddy!"
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
He's an interesting negotiator.
I thoroughly expect to hear, "Now, Mommy!" fall out of his mouth, followed by a nicker.
It's bad enough Punk is now doing it. But she's little and I might be able to curb hers more easily.
Might.
Hopefully.
I pray to the gods!
But Boo? Now there's the rub. How do I solve a problem like Boo's foot stampin' temper tantrum oh-not-so-good-time?
I've tried reason. Yes, I know, with my kid? I was wasting enough hot air to fill the Hindeburg.
I've tried laughter. He wasn't amused.
I've stamped my feet. It hurt like hell.
I've done time outs, early bed times, etc. All to no avail.
He still stamps his feet like a mad pony.
I'm about to have him shoed.
And then, if he doesn't straighten up, I may take him out back and deal with him like a lame horse.
Wait a minute. He'd probably come back and I'd be the one put down.
And he'd be stamping his feet and whistling all the while.