Genetic Predestination

This is Rollie in his Batman mask. (He was Batman for last Halloween. I know, not that creative, but people, I had a 23-day-old baby and wasn't functioning at full capacity. He's lucky he even got to go trick or treating.)
While I was folding laundry in my bedroom yesterday, Rollie was running around in his mask, while Matilda sat on the floor. He ran right up to her, kneeled in front of her, and let out a ROAR! She burst into tears. I explained to Rollie that Matilda was scared of him in his mask, because she didn't understand that it was him underneath. He removed the mask and showed her his face. I told him not to do it again. She giggled and I went back to folding laundry. Rollie put the mask back on, ran around the room,then ran straight back over to Matilda and got right in her face with an even louder roar. Matilda screamed bloody murder. Seems the thought of scaring his baby sister was just too alluring. He would brave Mother's wrath for the look of fear in Matilda's eyes. In punishment for disobeying me, I took away the mask and he apologized to Matilda.

Later, while they were napping, I went downstairs and kept myself occupied for a while. The result? Simon Elizabethan. That's right: The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Rollie is a chip off the old block. Seems I just couldn't pass up the chance to torture my cat by making him a paper towel Elizabethan collar and then photographing it for posterity. Ironic, no?