My dear friend Jenna was over the other evening and as we were sitting in the floor doing our nails, she screams "IT'S A MOUSE!" Having never experienced a mouse in my house, I was literally up on the couch within seconds. In confirmation of Murphy's Law, Kevin was of course out of town on business. What do I do? Jenna said it "scurried back downstairs". So I did the only thing I could think of--stuff towels around the basement door so that it couldn't "scurry back up" in the night and gnaw my eyeballs out while I sleep. I tried to go to sleep knowing that there was an unwanted intruder in our home. Stuart Little I kept thinking...Mickey Mouse... Rattatoui----It didn't work.
So the next day my mother-in -law, whom I have deemed our one-woman mouse-hunting CSI team--came by and we set traps. The sticky ones that have food etc. The next morning:
I was a bit freaked out by this as he was still squirming and trying to get out so I thought I would just close the door- pretend it wasn't happening- and just wait for Kevin to "take care of it" when he got home.
Good Plan.
Phone rings. Realtor wanting to show our house in 1 hour. !*!*!*!*!**!
So that's when I shamelessly convinced my 4 1/2 year old that he would get to be "part of my team" and put the mouse in the trash for me as I held the bag. He did it - no problem-didn't even flinch.
I really LOVE having boys.














