Little miss Sadness sighs that she looks up on the rain in a quiet park bench under a drizzly gray sky. The trees sway gently, and puddles reflect the overcast clouds. Sadness sits curled up, her blue sweater damp, her gaze fixed on a worm slowly inching across the pavement, pops out from behind a tree, arms springing like coils.

Well, that worm hasn’t met me yet! But you have—and that means it’s tickle time!