In the beginning, there was only chaos.
Of course, Cronus loved chaos. How could he not? It was the essence of his being. Chaos was the blood that pulsed through his veins, it was the honey-like elixir that Cronus sought to drench the world in. Chaos? Chaos was perfect.
Cronus was happy to admit to himself that although it was his job to spread discord and ruin as far and wide as his immortal life allowed, it was always extra sweet when the mortal boy's plans fell to chaos. Sure, Cronus' primary function was to sink the world into a pit of that luxurious ruin, but if he could disrupt Jay's determined, hyper-organised plans whilst at it: well, Cronus wasn't one to deny the joy it gave him.
Every time his perfect, chaos-free plans fell in, the mortal boy would grow more and more frustrated. Every time his beloved girlfriend fell into a pothole of sorts, or every time Cronus would slip through their cutely eloquent traps and schemes, Cronus would sense the boy's rising anger.
The boy was naive. He had no sense of time. He craved such perfect order, and would repeatedly seek it, hatching flawless scheme after scheme to attain such awful, ugly peace. He would become so annoyed, so intently irked by his own shortcomings: why, the boy was simply mortal. He did not have the awareness of an immortal like Cronus, whom had watched chaos ebb and flow and lap at the world's edges since the dawn of time. He did not watch as every day, every month, every century, small plans fell to chaos and yet order and peace reigned the mortal world.
No, the mortals did not know time as Cronus did. They did not have an appreciation of their insignificance. Perhaps Cronus would have won more quickly if he hadn't been so preoccupied with exquisitely foiling their plans just to catch a glimpse of chaos in their reactions.
But then again, eternity was such a long time. Cronus may as well have some fun before the mortals entered the underworld.
After all, mortals that were as fun to taunt as Jay were seldom seen.