Nathan Trouble: 2010

Nathan. It's another way to spell trouble. He is three years old, and rotten to the core. Do they have a Hurricane Nathan? Well they do now. Really there's not much to say. He can be the dream boy, snuggly and sweet, or he can be tearing the house apart faster than Mom can put it together. (Thats pretty dang fast). But we love him to death. (Seriously. He'll be the death of us.)
Ive done a story for everyone else, so i guess i'll do one here.
Everyone was in bed. My mom heard a noise in the kitchen, so as any wife should, she... poked my dad. He went out into the kitchen, were my little bro was. Nate was standing on a chair, with a pan full of cold oil that my dad had used to cook the taco shells, and on his other side, a pot full of water. He noticed my dad there, and said, "Hi daddy. I'n cooking." He took a taco shell and put it in the oil with a pair of tongs. "An I'n cleaning dishes." He stirred the pot of water. Ahh. The days when he was innocently evil.