He's spent quite some time this evening in front of the downstairs potty box tucked in a corner of the living room, sitting/standing and staring. He'll stare at the box, glance at me with a pitiful face and look back at the box. He's asking for permission to get a snack. He looks so sad when we tell him no.
He knows he's not supposed to get into the box, and if he tries, he'll slowly stick his head through the door, waiting to see if we say no. And we do. Every time. Poor guy can't catch a break.
I'll get up and clean the box in a bit, but we're working on his self-control, and this provided a perfect opportunity.
And it's hilarious.