As you've probably guessed, our lake was named for Cooper, who can't keep himself out the mudhole. Nor can he keep himself out of trouble lately. Zach has been to time out only once or twice ever. Charlie, a few times more than that. Cooper is in time out at least two or three times a day.
Here's the problem. Cooper freaking LOVES timeout. I don't know where I went wrong. He does things like running out of the bathroom at full speed with a fist full of toilet paper (one end of which is still attached to the roll of course), stops and looks me straight in the eye and says "Bimeout! Bimeout!" Then we put him in his timeout chair (in an empty bedroom downstairs). He sits there and sings and talks to himself (apparently telling himself hilarious jokes). Happy as a clam.
Which brings me to Cooper's behavior this weekend.
It occurred to me yesterday that I hadn't seen Cooper in a little while. Neither had Brian. He wasn't upstairs, and he wasn't downstairs playing with Zach and Charlie. Where was he? Then we noticed the door to the timeout room was closed. We opened the door and out ran Cooper, looking like a little chipmunk. Literally. His cheeks were full of -- no surely it's not--- CAT FOOD. So much dang cat food that when he smiled at us, little triangular morsels would fall out. So proud of himself.