Confession. The antlers are Potty Presents. There are many more of them, wrapped and ready for Tucker, should he ever decide to put the poop where it belongs. They are out on display (albeit in a gawdy Easter basket...), so there can be no question. He knows what to do, and he knows the reward. Guaranteed. Still, no dice.
Since nobody is opening Potty Presents around here, and since antlers aren't nearly as darling after Christmas, I decided to open them. And we all took a turn wearing them.
But let's be clear: he'll have to earn the rest of those presents.
(Oh. Except for the two that I stole and put into stockings.)