Coal in Your Stocking

My Mr. Cool Dude, sometimes you just ask for coal in your stocking.

Like the other day when you were caught drawing on the floor,

And then proceeded to let Ripley eat the crayons and she spit them out in ground-up pieces and you both rubbed them into the tile grout.

Or like when you got mad because I closed the door when I was dressing and you threw a book up at the door and it came back down and cut you between the eyes.

Or that next morning when you decided yogurt was the newest hair gel.

Or how about the latest stunt, which I think takes the cake {sorry no photos}:

Last night when Mommy took Ripley outside to pee, you decided to LOCK US OUT in the freezing cold. After 12 minutes of Mommy yelling through the door, banging on the glass, and trying to appeal to the fun of looking through the panes, thankfully you joined in Mommy's game of "try and jiggle the handle just like Mommy does on this side" and we avoided a large Locksmith fee.

You better watch out

You better not cry

You better not pout

I'm telling you why

Santa Claus is coming to town!