But seriously, y'all. I think we may have a raccoon or something. About six cooked hamburger patties disappeared from a plate we'd left next to the stove recently, too. Brian and I convinced ourselves we'd accidentally thrown them out. I feel sort of icky because we ate the ones that our mystery guest didn't take -- I don't like thinking about grubby raccoon hands all over something I've eaten, but I like the idea of sticky possum hands or a nasty rodent's mouth even less.
I am puzzled, but I've decided to laugh about it rather than cry about it.
I am just mad I have to go buy more pacis. Whatever took them only left us two -- the one in Max's mouth, and one in the dishwasher. Any parent knows this is a precarious situation.