Missing socks are a fact of life in my house, and when I’m not blaming cats or faeries or the tiny 18th century Spaniard that lives in my foyer closet, I suspect many of the socks sneak off in the dead of night to have torrid affairs with one another. This also explains the amount of baby socks I find around the house that I can’t recall either of my children ever wearing. This is sock biology at its finest.

Not only is he thugged out, he’s thugged out 80s style! Word.

This is obviously a follow-up to yesterday’s Thanksgiving strip. I can imagine Winslow finishing his meal and getting carried away in a turkey-induced fit of gluttony. I’ve seen it happen to no less than three different uncles, so I know this kind of thing is possible.

Show of hands (despite me not being able to see them and you later feeling dumb for having raised your hand in front of your monitor as if I could). How many of you did this before starting your Thanksgiving meal? How many of you still do it today? My family did this once, and only once. After my cousin said he was thankful that he wasn’t sitting next to (our cantankerous and chronically grumpy) great-grandmother, we never tried instituting this tradition ever again.

After Ben and Winslow encountered a burglar in their house several months ago, I always wondered what the details were. Who was this mysterious, unseen burglar? What did he steal? Was he caught? As this comic shows, even Winslow wasn’t fully aware of what happened that night.