Once there was a little boy who caught the miserables. It started at dinner, when his food was too hot and burned his mouth. So then he wouldn’t eat for a time, because he had the sulks, and when he finally got back to it, his food was too cold.
He was so mopey after dinner that his parents decided to put him to bed, and he was willing to go, but then he couldn’t sleep. He got all tangled up in the covers, the sheet came loose, and his feet got cold. So then he got up and put on his winter pajamas, and after fifteen minutes in those, his feet were too hot. Soon he was lying on top of the covers, panting, and feeling very sorry for himself.
Down the hall he could hear his brother and sister playing happily, and he thought to himself that he was the unluckiest boy in the whole world.
Then he got thirsty, and he tried to cry out for a glass of water. But his throat was parched and so he could only croak out a gasp for water, which of course, nobody heard. And we have to admit that his throat was not that parched, and that he was only faking this part so that he could feel even sorrier for himself. Of course it worked, and so he sat there in his bed, hot tears splashing on his cheek.
But he was thirsty and he eventually realized that his leg was not tied to the bed, and so he got up to get himself a glass of water. But when you are in this frame of mind, nothing ever goes right, and so it was not surprising that he spilled the water down the front of his pajamas and had to take them off. And soon his feet got cold again.
He clambered back into bed, and tried to scrunch the blankets around his feet. And there he sat, trying to figure out why the world was so hard and cruel. And when he had finally worked himself down into the deepest hole a seven-year-old can dig for himself, his bedroom door opened, and the kind face of his mother appeared.
“If you are done being silly, you can come out now.” And though he did not know where it came from, he laughed and nodded.