We're a few sessions into therapy for Crocodile. He's in turbo gear when the therapist is at our house, kind of like he is when a caseworker comes by. (When he's not asleep, he's usually just in high gear.) So, he's running here and there and everywhere, playing with everything for two seconds, and he brings over something that makes circles on the microsuede couch.
Of course, that something is a shot glass he pulled from the dish drying rack.
Doesn't matter how moderately you drink or how understanding you think the professional is, that's worth at least a few nervous chuckles.