Hot mess

This picture has nothing to do with the following 'story', but it depicts the hot mess that is me (of course it doesn't help that my mother dresses me like a fruitcake everyday).
So, yesterday was the first time Daddy put me in timeout. What do you know... I threw something at him. In fact it was a full bottle of water. Good times. After I chucked the water at Daddy (did I mention it was right at his head?), all Daddy had to do was point at my timeout stool and away I went. Sulking. Daddy followed me to talk to me about what I did wrong, but I was under the impression I was done with time out. See I have to sit there for 1 minute, 'think about what I did wrong,' Mommy or Daddy (whoever put me in timeout) comes and talks to me, we give each other hugs and kisses, and then I'm on my way. I thought I could trick Daddy and peace out before I did my time, but he caught on to me and made me sit there. Then this morning I threw one of Deuce's baby toys at Mommy... she pointed to the stool, and away I went... dead man walking. Oh these parentals and their rules.