I've been focusing on editing and re-writing this week, so instead of a delightful debate on the state of children's literature today, I bring you our little backyard scoundrel.
He is a scoundrel because I'm pretty sure it's him and his family making noises under our house, scaring the bejesus out of me when I'm home alone.
Yeah, that's right. He may look cute, but he's a menace! A menace with a mouth full of acorn.
A menace who doesn't even have the grace to pretend to be scared when I walk right up to the glass doors and start taking a series of photos of him eating an acorn. I swear he's freaking smiling for the camera.
Here's another photo:
And one with a head tilt: