I woke up this morning to the sobbing of my 2-year-old son, Dylan, a few feet away from me. There are better things to hear when awakening — the sound of the ocean or birds chirping in the spring.

Somewhere way down that list is the sound of a toddler crying at the top of his lungs at close proximity. That was my alarm on this summer morning, however.

While not the most pleasant wake-up call, still effective. As my eyes slowly open, I see him standing there looking at me, red-faced and teary-eyed.

I roll over and see the clock strike 7 a.m. What could have possibly happened this early in the morning to cause this kind of reaction?

“I WANT TO GO BEACH, DAAADY!!”

Of course he does. Who wouldn’t want to wake up on a random Tuesday and go to the beach? Dylan has been fortunate to make a few trips to the Gulf Coast in the three summers he’s seen. Those memories must have made an impression because at least once a week, he has asked for a beach trip as if it’s like driving to the neighborhood park.

It’s important to mention that when speaking with a toddler, time and distance are irrelevant. They do not count.

He doesn’t want to hear, “It’s a six-hour drive and I have to be at work at 8.” All you can do is calmly tell him, “Not today.” Apparently this morning, his mother already said those words to bring about this meltdown.

While logic never works in these negotiations, time heals all things. He quickly forgets about his beach aspirations and settles in for an episode of one of his favorite shows, which he pronounces “Chaw Chatrol.”

The first time I heard those words caused a pretty epic meltdown in its own right. Like most 30-year-old males, I had never heard of the cartoon, and when Dylan asked to watch it, all I could make out the first time was “Cha Chatrall.”

I’m not ashamed to admit that more than a few times I’ve been a bad parent and sat Dylan down in front of the TV when I needed a break. So when I couldn’t find his cartoon of choice that day, it wasn’t pretty.

“I WANNA WATCH CHA CHATRALL!” he demanded, becoming more and more impatient.

I desperately scrolled through our DVR, flipping through the myriad of cartoons at my disposal. None of them sounded anything like the words coming out of his mouth.

I scroll through Chuggington, Peppa Pig and others — none of which interested Dylan on this day. When it seemed like there was no hope, Dylan stopped crying, pointed to the TV and with a smile on his little face and said, “Paw Patrol.”

While scrolling, I accidentally stopped on Paw Patrol, which Dylan recognized from the tiny logo in the preview box.

I hit “play” and all was well in the world. Dylan, now content and without tears, patted the seat next to him and said, “Be right here, daddy.”