Coloring on the Walls

So Max and I were nursing on the couch when I hear Jackson yell, in his best "Mean Mommy" impression, "NO! NAUGHTY!  NO COLORING ON THE WALLS!  THAT'S NAUGHTY, TUCKER!  Mom! Mom!  Tucker colored on the walls! (I hear the door to my room slam shut.)  And now he's hiding in your room!  We're not supposed to be in there!  AND HE STILL HAS THE CRAYON!"  I really wish I could properly convey to you the note of horror in his voice at the realization that the WMD was still in the assailant's possession.  (And I also really wish I had taken pictures...)  Not really wanting to deal with it and a crying Max right then, I finished what I was doing and walked into the dining room to see a big spiral on the wall in the hall.  And then crayon all up and down the length of the opposing wall in the hall.  And then the door jambs between the dining room and hallway were colored so thickly in red-orange crayon that, if he wasn't 2 and could actually color well, it would almost look painted.  Now, this was washable crayon and I have a hefty supply of magic erasers, so this wasn't really a huge problem, per se, but it definitely needed to be dealt with.  My first reaction, however, was to laugh.  It was kind of funny.  Tucker definitely knows better, so what did he think he was doing?  So, as I'm standing there laughing, Jackson is growing more and more indignant. 
     "Mommy!  Why are you laughing?!?  It's not funny!" 
     "No, sweetheart.  It's not funny.  I should not be laughing." 
     "So if it's not funny, why are you laughing?"
So I did my best to collect myself, and I walked into my bedroom to find Tucker standing in the corner with an impish little grin on his face.  I summoned my Mean Mommy glare and my Mean Mommy pointy-finger and bellowed, "TUCKER!  WE DO NOT COLOR ON THE WALLS! THAT IS NAUGHTY!!!"  Apparently, it was a little too much Mean Mommy because he immediately peed his pants.  Ok, dial it back there.  Instead, I took him by the hand, we got a Magic Eraser, and then I took him to the scene of the crime.  I told him it was naughty to color on the walls and he had to clean it all off. 
So he is wiping it off, and, as expected, it is coming right off with no problem.  In fact, Max decided it even looked like fun.  Tucker kept having to tell Max, "No! My work!  My work!" (That's what they say in Montessori school when another kid is trying to take their toy.)  Max, however, didn't care that it was Tucker's work.  He wanted to do it, too.  I finally had to get him his own sponge.  But Tucker did not appreciate the help.  He was still telling Max, "My work!"  And then Jackson started in.
"I want to help, too!"
"What?? Tucker is being punished!  You don't want to help."
"Yes, I do.  It looks like fun.  Max is helping."
"No, Tucker is being punished.  He needs to do this by himself."
"Well, maybe I should color on the wall."
"No!  If you color on the wall it is going to be A LOT worse than just having to clean it off."
So Jack sulked back to sit in a dining room chair, wistfully watching his little brothers clean crayon off the walls.  It didn't really take Tucker all that long to finish.  And when he finally did finish, what did he do?  He ran toward where I had put the crayons up high yelling, "Again!  Again!"  Apparently, I need to work on my punishing skills.