on the naughty list

There is a little three-year-old boy who lives at this house that is on the naughty, naughty, naughty list. As in he might be getting a chunk of coal in his stocking just like his father did once upon a time as a little boy himself. His current three-year-old talents include whining, throwing fits, and testing his mother's patience every other minute. His most recent feats of three-year-old-ness include having a meltdown at the grocery store on Christmas Eve Eve as we were finishing up our final errands before avoiding stores at all costs until several days after Christmas. It was a tremendous fit, and frankly, he is lucky to have survived. The real clincher, however, was when he snuck upstairs and tossed every single piece of clean folded laundry (all six loads) on the floor. Once upon a time I used to like doing the laundry. I could toss it in the washer, read a book, switch it to the dryer, read my book, fold it, and repeat until it was all completed and feel like I had accomplished a significant amount even though the washer and dryer did all the work. Fast forward two children, and could laundry be any more of a drag? The washer and the dryer I can usually manage. The folding is like torture. I have to force myself to do it every single week. It's especially fun when I have let it pile up and wrinkle in the laundry basket for a day or two. And the little stinker had thrown all my hard work on the floor. The only thing more awesome than folding laundry is folding the same (slightly dusty) laundry again. Let's just say he landed himself on the naughty list and promptly went to bed and did not dare poke his little head out of his room. We'll just see if Santa will be leaving anything tonight for this little monkey.