This is the view from the front door. Into the bowels of playroom hell. It's so tiny it should be called a play closet. There are no front stairs, yet so when you're outside the doorknob is actually above my head. Right after the treehouse. And look, that little bastard Fred got his head in the picture.

Little bastard? Why, yes. Yesterday he somehow opened the cabinet door, snared the trashcan, tipped it and proceeded to share the spoils with the big dog. Half a chocolate cake with extra chocolate frosting? Gone. Scallions? Still there. Today he knocked down a 10 pound plastic container of dog treats, the lid popped off (he probably cannot believe his good fortune) and he and the big dog proceeded to eat about a third of the container. Little bastard indeed.

Note: I just noticed in the kitchen picture, way to the left you can see the bin of dog cookies. Grrr.