Grumpasaurus

Mason woke up at six thirty this morning on the wrong side of the bed. From the second his eyes opened it was a grumpfest. He squirmed and whined as I wrestled him into his diaper, he screamed loud enough to wake up all our neighbors within a two mile radius when I took his toothbrush out of his hand as he attempted to scrub the toilet with it, and he raspberried yogurt right back in my face during breakfast.

After our usual morning routine, I plopped Mason down in front of his toy basket so I could grab a cup of coffee and this is what ensued:

Now, Mason's really proud of his standing skills. Almost as proud as I am. But man, he looked sad. So I cheered and clapped, which usually gets a big smile. Nothing. I sang the Skunk Song at the top of my lungs. Nothing. I made his stuffed dinosaur roar at him and "bite" his sides and cheeks; finally:

A tiny smile. But it didn't last long. It was one of those times where he wants to laugh but then he remembers he's supposed to be grumpy: