It seemed a little too quiet. I was in the dining room (which serves double duty as my office) and Bean was in the living room---within earshot, but just out of sight. For five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, only silence. An occasional grunt or rustle let me know he was still alive---but there were no shrieks, no customary giggles or roars. And you know---it's probably terrible that I didn't jump up immediately, and instead thought "I wonder how much I can get done before he starts making noise." Yes, I imagined the possibilities. Even the worst, when weighed against fifteen minutes of undivided (quiet) time to finish writing xmas cards, print pictures, and wrap presents, was just not terrible enough.
Finally I heard a giggle, and then the fwapity-fwap sounds of him crawling away from the scene of the crime. This is what I found. I didn't have time to adjust the iso so the pictures came out all blurry. But they probably would have come out blurry anyway. I couldn't stop laughing. He STUFFED THE TISSUES UP THE FRONT OF HIS SWEATER, people. All by himself. How funny is that? And the wreckage of the tissue box (and my living room)? It was TOTALLY WORTH IT.