Is there anything worse than the tantrum? We're in the middle of a nuclear meltdown. It started innocently enough with a simple visit to the playpen while Dad went to use the restroom and there's been no abating since. The cries urge you to pick him up and then when he instantly turns off the spigot you feel played, played like you answered that junk mail for the russian bride who is really interested in visiting Ammerica and havfing funn.
Oh and don't even think about breakfast, the crawler will find you no matter where you go.