I only remember having two tantrums (not that there couldn't be more that I don't remember, but my parents never brought any others up and I think I was a pretty even-natured kid so hopefully these were it). One was really bratty and the other more understandable.
1. Bratty: Once when I was really little (I'd say 3 at the most, it's one of my first memories). My Dad had this big clock on his bedside table - not like an alarm clock one would have had in the last several decades but a big rectangular heavy thing. I picked it up to look at it and it was pretty heavy for me. My Dad told me to give it to him so I wouldn't drop it and break it (or my toe), and for some reason this just incensed me. I remember to this day feeling so incredibly defiant, like "you can't make me give it back, I want to look at it!" He kept getting more insistent and I got even more defiant in return, culminating with me not dropping, but throwing, it on the floor and breaking it. That was the one and only time my Dad ever hit me (small slap on the hand, which didn't hurt my hand, just my pride).
2. Not bratty but annoying nevertheless: my family (Mom and Dad, big brother (10 years older) and me) were visiting the Wax Museum in San Francisco. I was about 4-5 (I know, too old for tantrums). Big bro took me through the "hall of horrors" because he thought it was super-cool and thought I would too, which I did, but it also scared me. Then there was the fact that I had had a bad dream the night before. When we got to the end of the museum, patrons were supposed to leave by a designated exit, but I totally freaked out - I was absolutely positive there were monsters outside the exit door and that we needed to leave through the front door where we had come in. My parents were bewildered but finally gave in, so we all had to traipse back all the way to the front again to appease me.