Uninvited, or Eeeeewwwwww

curled up nice and tight

While baking in the kitchen on Tuesday, I was casually chatting with Shelby, who was sitting at the dining room table. Abigail was nearby, happily coloring away. Quite suddenly, Shelby stood up from her chair and rushed over to the back sliding glass door, simultaneously calling for Abigail and I to "Come quickly!" When what to our wondering eyes should appear but a little, white mouse casually sniffing away on our back deck. The girls were enchanted. I was grossed out. Of course, the rest of the kiddos were called and pretty soon all the children were clustered around the door watching this little invader roam all over our property as if he was planning on moving in. Not good.

nibble nibble like a mouse
get that thing out of my house

You see, I am a fairly relaxed mom. I don't tend to be overly girlie. (I do try to be feminine, which is completely different.) I can wrestle with the boys, bait a fish hook with the best of them, take my daughter's Manatawny Sushi Award (AKA The Eating a Wriggling, Raw Worm Award) in stride, and pretty much accept the fact that raising five boys means that I am exposed to some pretty disgusting jokes. (Seriously - what is it about farting on someone else that is so funny?) I am even on the spider-removal team, which Scott refuses to be a part of.

HOWEVER. . .


Rodents of all types are a completely different story. I hate them. Nay, I despise them!!! Two years ago, a vole managed to find it's way into our home. I was literally on top of the dining room table and refused to come down until my husband and my mother managed to get it out of my house. I really can't explain what happened. One moment I was standing on the ground like every other gravity-influenced human and the next I found myself on top of the table, unable to get off. I don't even remember getting myself up there.  I thought it and it happened. Instant catapult.

systematically testing for weaknesses
just like a raptor from "Jurassic Park"

I wasn't thrilled with the idea of this guy moving into our yard area and found myself hoping a snake was nearby to polish the little sucker off, and if there wasn't, what steps I might be able to take to lure one over. He meandered away from the door, I went back to baking, and eventually it was just Shelby and Abigail watching out the back door. I should have know something was fishy when I looked over and saw only Abigail still staring out the back door. Abigail never stands still for so long by herself. But I was too wrapped up in my fantasies of instant mouse death to really give it much thought. And then Shelby came through the door with a Cheshire Cat grin if ever I saw one. In her hand was a large, glass jar. In the jar was it. The inevitable occurred.

"Mom, can we keep it?"

"No."

"But mom, he's so cute!"

"No."

"I'll take care of him."

"No."

"I'll wash his cage and clean him and buy the food and supplies myself."

"No."

"Come here, little Elias, so I can nibble your fingers off."

Sensing the entrenched nature of my position, reinforcements were called quickly to the scene. All their arguments, wheedling, cajoling, pleading, promises, assurances, and basic begging fell on deaf ears.

"No."

"Well, can we at least wait for dad to see him? You know, feed it some cheese and just let him be here for a little while?"

Now, here was a thought. I was busy baking bread and pizza crusts, but once Scott arrived home from his errand, he could actually transport the little vermin to a good cemetery or a nice open field where he would be visible to hawks for miles around. Then I could be assured that the squatter hadn't taken up residence in our yard and our lives could go on as God intended.

"Sure."

"Okay. Then I'm going to crack the lid so he can get some air."

"WHAT??!!" Again -- I don't know what happened. All I could think was cracked lid = potential escape. Inside the house. With me.  The panic I felt was completely real.

"No worries, mom. I"ll watch him to make sure you're safe." Pathetic, eh?

Scott did manage to take him far, far away but I really didn't begin to relax on the inside until after they returned from their trip and Scott said he literally went over the river and through the woods by Big Red Bus in order to protect my sanity. To his credit, he never once teased me about about the mouse. Perhaps, just perhaps, I shouldn't tease him about the spider-creeps he has.

Hmmm.