Tombo is now living on his own, across from his sisters in my spare room. Because he appears to be reaching that age where he might start liking his sisters a little too much, so they can't be left together anymore.
Which is all fine. I moved him out Monday night and assembled a little pen with a roof to keep him in. The pen has mesh attached so he can't wedge his little baby head in the bars. The mesh also has the added benefit of dramatically increasing the weight, making it (hopefully) impossible for small bunnies to lift.
Wind forwards to 5am Tuesday, when I awaken to the sound of Whisky trying to get my attention from the next room by stamping his little feet as hard as he can. I throw open my bedroom door ready to rush to Whisky's aid, only to come face to face with tiny Tombo. My little house guest is merrily covering the landing with poo while racing up and down entertaining himself.
I scooped up the little escapee and returned him to the spare room expecting to find the pen breached somehow but no - completely intact. I have no idea how he got out. He is clearly the Great Bundini reborn.