Correction and Chastisement

Yesterday felt like one of those days when I was yelling at James all day long.

Don't throw your shoes at Owen.
Don't grab stuff from Owen without asking.
You can go to the potty without bringing the entire retinue of animals and cars...Owen can't possibly eat them all.
Please get into your carseat the first time we ask.
Seriously, sit down and be still so we can buckle you up.
No, you can't cross the parking lot by yourself.
What did we say about throwing shoes at Owen?
You have to eat that before you get up from the table.
No, we aren't going to give you any more Christmas presents to open. Christmas was over a week ago.
Seriously...don't throw shoes at Owen.
et cetera
et cetera
et alia

But do you know what? For a four year old boy, he's really a pretty good kid. Here are a bunch of things that I didn't tell him yesterday:

James, you came to a boring grown-up staff party with your parents and played quietly by yourself in an appropriate manner while the adults small-talked and your less behaved younger brother kept on attempting to fall down the steps. You were polite and social whenever people talked to you. Good work.
James, in a room full of screaming and writhing toddlers you calmly and quietly picked out the books you wanted, put them in the bag, and then checked out at the library without making any trouble at all. Nice work.
James, you didn't beg for any TV or iPad time today. When we got back from the library you crawled under a blanket with me and asked to read through your entire library bag. Twice. I couldn't have been happier to spend an hour that way, even though my voice hurt by the end of it.
James, when we loaded you up in the stroller and took you out on a run in the 39 degree weather you were quiet and peaceful, unlike your brother, who kept on screaming and attempting to take off his hat. Thank you for understanding and enjoying the situation.
You waited patiently for the cookies Mommy made, you requested vegetables for supper of your own free will, and you helped your little brother when he was making a mess of his own dinner.

You're a pretty good kid.

Please don't throw shoes at Owen, though.