He was none-too-happy when I offered his sister and her playmate a few cookies from the yellow box.

That yellow box, in his mind anyway, contained the few and precious wafers that were his and his alone.

"I'm goin' to my wooom!" he shouted, grabbed the box off the table and headed for the stairs. He added "RAAAAAH" for emphasis.

I didn't want to chase him. I was tired and so was he, Mr. Fighter of Naps. I envisioned an exhaustive tantrum complete with incomprehensible words, ear-shattering shrieks and a flood of tears. So I let him disappear with the yellow box.

Soon I heard the familiar slam of his bedroom door and the springs of his bed.

And then silence.

Blessed silence.

When I went to check on him in the sustained quiet a few minutes later I found him sound asleep ... with an empty box.