Right now I can see the evidence all around me. Moon sand covering the kitchen floor . . . dirty dishes piled in the sink and spilling onto the counter . . . Band-Aid wrappers littering the living room carpet . . . socks turned inside-out sprinkled throughout the hallway like bread crumbs leading to the laundry room . . . a banana peel left to rot on the counter . . .
They play the Wii and then leave the controllers on the couch so they get wedged under the cushions. They eat cereal in the living room (even though they know better) and leave their bowl and spoon on the end table or on the floor. Sometimes they even ride bikes and then neglect to put them back in the garage.
Must be raccoons. There’s no other explanation.
I mean, we couldn’t possibly make these messes all by ourselves . . .