How Halloween Ruined My Life

I can’t call this a wordless entry because look. Here are some words I made for you. But there aren’t many of them, so hang with me. Here’s how Halloween ruined what was left of my life. See this?

Everybody say it. Awwwwww.

So cute. Trick or treating at the zoo. Adorable. Sweet. Yeah. And the next day, it turns into this:

Levitating bandit

Photographic demonstration of why I can no longer get anything done in my house. I did move the treats to higher ground, but hope springs eternal. It doesn’t stop him from climbing up for a peek. Out of desperation, I grabbed my camera and snapped his photo as he summited Mount Never-rest. And I told him it was a bad shot and asked him to do it again and then again. Eight times. Until he gave me a withering glare and said “I done.”

Aren't you done yet?

So I have outsmarted him for the moment. A very brief moment. He is currently calling me to the bathroom to attend his performance as he tries  to squeeze out a token for yet another treat. I have become poop police, judge and jury. Anybody know how many tiny nuggets constitute a treat-worthy production? Dr. Spock fails to cover that one.