This is his favorite thing to do. Just sit and stare out the front door. Sometimes he gets loud and yippy so you have to tell him he'll lose privileges if he doesn't stop. He usually doesn't, and then you shut the door and he gives you cute sad puppy eyes. But because he's so loud that you almost burn your hand with the iron when he makes you jump you don't open the door again for a while.
For a lunatic traveler who hates the car he sure was eager to get moving. During the journey my uncle would text my dad, who would hand the phone to my sister to type his response as he was driving. There was a small flurry of texts at one points, prompting my uncle to ask "Is Charlie driving?" We responded with this picture.
Must go watch American Horror Story: Asylum. I'm completely hooked. Later, taters!