The Cone of Shame

I was getting a little tired of Squib tattling on his stuffed animals. They are Just. Stuffed. Animals. People. So, I told him that since they were all his that he should think of an appropriate way to discipline them on his own. I have such little time with him and I didn't want to spend it getting onto nine stuffed animals about their behaviour. SRSLY! Erf.

 About an hour later, I walked by his table where he was constructing a Lego eagle (It's a spider, mom!) and had to stop to do a double take of the stuffed animals. Every single one had one of those cones around their neck that you use to keep animals from chewing a wound or something. They were sitting there like a forlorn group of rag tag has beens now.

I asked Michael (after controlling myself because I wanted to lay down and laugh until I cried) why they were all wearing cones and he replied with no emotion whatsoever, "If you disobey, you get the cone of shame."

Boy, do I ever like this kid.

Scat