Once upon a time, in a desert kingdom, lived a young boy.
The boy was born smiling and laughed for the first time at a mere two weeks of age.
As he grew, he remained ever cheerful and friendly capturing the hearts of even the dourest of townsfolk with his ready smile.
Near the end of his second year, the lad and his family traveled to the bitter cold northern country of their heritage to celebrate what was known as “The Holidays” with relatives who lived there still.
Day after day and night after night the boy was bustled from party to party, always dressed in more clothes than he’d ever thought could be necessary, and never home in time for bed.
Once, he was even placed in the lap of an uncle and shoved down a steep snowy hill. He was apparently supposed to enjoy this. Indeed, his sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, even his own mother, the their apparent delight, took turns at this hill sliding nonsense!
Eventually, after being subjected to such abuse, the boy’s born cheer wore thin and he began grumping, whining, flopping and exhibiting all sorts of behaviors out of harmony with his naturally blithe spirit.
It was then that his parents saw fit to take him home, away from the parties, away from the chill. Home, where he could have his naps, play in the sunshine and find his smile again.
Even there, his polluted disposition remained until one day when he took to napping late in the afternoon. His mother worried at first. Such a late nap for a boy already out of sorts could prove catastrophic.
The afternoon reached on and spent itself into evening. Some advised to wake the boy and feed him afore night lest his hunger wake him in the dark. Others whispered “He must be roused and jammied, sleeping so long in one’s clothes will surely bring bad luck!” But his mother shook her head, “No, let the boy alone, he must sleep as long as he will”
Sleep he did, throughout the night and on into morning and when at last he woke, his gladsome demeanor had returned and all was right.
(At least that’s the ending I’m hoping for)