Lexi knows I am not to be trusted during these sweeps; frankenballoons are at risk. She hovers nearby, whispering to Zack to hide his stash before I hit his room.
Soon they are digging through the goodwill box, offering up closing arguments.
It's just better when they are banished, making messes somewhere else.
I came downstairs to start dinner to this:
Seems there have been some shady activity in the toy box, and the interrogations had been going on for hours. Skipie (yes, that's how her boston terrier spells her name) was blaming Mickey Mouse, but Zack said he would just have to lawyer up, because his rodent was no flunkey.
They turned, saw me there on the stairs, with the hijacked toys behind my back. I knew then there was no way this was going to end well for me.
My court date is scheduled for next week.