Sometimes your fifteen month old greets you cheerfully when you go in to get him for breakfast, and you think, "Hey, it might just be a great day!"
And then you sit him in his high chair and he immediately lets out a banshee cry and launches into a massive tantrum. You try a few times to offer him food but your olive branch is thrust aside and met with the screams of the wounded (ever increasing in pitch, of course).
So you wish for a set of earplugs and pretend to ignore the assault on your eardrums.
It's going to be one of those days. :)
(After about fifteen minutes he forgave his eggs for whatever crime they had committed and decided to eat them. Mmm. Cold, slimy eggs.)