One cold and windy Thanksgiving Eve, I with focus and great care, was brushing my first-born's hair. From the basement I heard a shout. "Mom! Come see this!" Sleepy and still in my morning funk, I responded with a sour, "Not right now," and carried on with the hair. I barely registered the thump of feet up the stairs, but then the door opened and a child's voice innocently asked, "So, is this a fake one, or a dead one." "That makes no sense..." I began, turning to look over my shoulder, and shrieked when I saw that in my sons hands, clamped in a pair of pliers, was a mouse, held helpfully at eye level.
With a scream, Riley and I made a dash for an adjoining room, startling Joe, who dropped the pliers and the mouse, causing our overgrown puppy to bound for the kitchen. I barely snagged his collar as he lunged for the mouse, and, after kenneling the dog, ran through some mental exercises to snag an anxiety attack by the collar as well. Sending the kids from the room, I grabbed a shoe box and scooped the offending rodent (dead, now confirmed) into the box and out to the trash just in time for morning pickup. As I stood on the curb, contemplating my narrow escape and watching the garbage truck's long arm lift the truck, I saw with horror the shoe box teeter and fall out of the can and onto the lawn. I made to pick it up, but the kindly garbage man beat me too it and without ever knowing he actually held a tiny coffin, tossed it unceremoniously into the heap. I fervently thanked the man, before turning to drag our bin back up to the house.
Would that the story ended there... Alas, we found a few mouse calling cards today under the couch. On our family puzzle, actually, which we keep on a giant drip pan under the couch and slide it out on slow days like today. I binned the puzzle, sterilized the area, and then gosh darn it, while preparing Thanksgiving dinner I discovered further evidence in the kitchen. I don't know that anything has ever brought me so quickly to the brink of panic as discovering mouse leavings in our cupboard.
Which is why I am thankful for stores that are open on Thanksgiving. Multiple mouse traps have been purchased (and the turkey bag - I always forget to get the turkey bag) and hidden about the house. The workers at Walmart have been fervently thanked - I'm so grateful for employees that keep the store running so a person can make emergency mouse trap runs when need be. Because of them, I was able to finish a simple Thanksgiving dinner (we had planned on gathering with friends but are continuing our tradition of being sick on Thanksgiving, so home we stay) and relax in the knowledge that those little varmints are going down.
Happy Thanksgiving!
PS: Lil Bet is the only one dressed up because I bought this dress back when I was pregnant with Henry, before we found out he was a boy. Well, I now happen to have a girl baby, years later, that happens to fit it, so gosh darn it she's going to wear it. Nevermind if the rest of us look like hoodlums.
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