When the tot wakes up in a foul mood, the forecast for the day is rarely sunny.

Peter woke up in a foul mood. And to make matters worse, it was his birthday, and there was the added stress of making it a good one. Happy birthday, he heard from his mother. Happy birthday, he heard from his brothers and sisters over and over again. That word: happy, echoing in his ears.

happy happy happy

happy happy happy

The sing-songy phrase repeated with maddening cheeriness until finally, he could take no more. The final meltdown ended in a request to use the toilet, and he sat, with drooping eyelids, barely nodding his assent that he was done. He was placed in his bed, fast asleep, at 615 pm.

We can only hope that he wakes, tomorrow, in a better mood.