Sometimes you walk into a room and you know you should probably intervene.
But then you remember that it has been entirely too long since you made Mr. Canon earn his keep, so you grab him and stand back to take pictures instead.
And then you think, "No, really, it's time to stop this," but you are paralyzed by shock that the dog is too stupid to just run away.
You then realize that it's really pretty awesome that your kid is into Bulldog torture just like you are, so you keep on watching.
And watching.
And watching.
And watching.
And watching, all the while knowing that this whole scene probably qualifies as animal abuse, but who cares?
Because if you had stopped it then you wouldn't have a series of photos that cracks you up every single time you look at them.
And what fun would that be?
(That dog is totally going to kill me in my sleep tonight. WORTH IT.)