Wasn't going to share BUT...

So I totally wasn't going to share this story, but my mom talked me into it tonight. 

It starts like this---we had this mouse (that's the part I didn't want to share...I thought it sounded like we had a filthy house or something....but my mom assured me that lots of people are having this problem this year.)  Dusty was the one to announce it's first appearance.  I was cooking dinner one night, while he and the kids sat like ravaging wolves at the dinner table (JK) and we were having a very casual conversation with one another.  And then it happened; that little bugger scurried accross the kitchen floor darting from under the fridge to under the dishwasher.  I nearly lost Dusty that night, you see, we all have this terrible phobia of those disgusting little creatures.  So Dusty ran Britt's jumper to pick her up, mind you she as a minimum of a ten foot distance from the scene of the event, to ensure her safety.  He and the other kids took a perched position on the kitchen table as we began to contemplate what to do with the thing.  You can imagine what kind of caos this little scene stirred up.  Rhiannon and Cy nearly in tears staning next to the big burley man they call their father, waiting for their helpless mother to prove heroine.  Sorry to disappoint, but I proved quite less than heroine.  My only solution was to obtain a mouse trap IMMEDIATELY (or two).  And that we did.

So the savage hunt for the little mouse began.  We strategically placed multiple traps in hopes of tricking the nasty thing.  After much research and wisdom from previous mouse hunters, we determined that we should add a touch of peanutbutter to the trap to ensure a garuntee success of Operation Mouse Removal.  Upon awakening the next morning we experienced our first taunting from the small creature.  It literally looked as if he had licked the peanutbutter from the trap managing to not set it.  So again, we repositioned the traps and sat and sat and waited and waited, only to find, the following morning, another display of mockery.  Still no capture of the beady eyed rodent.

Days began to pass with occasional sitings of the brave little mouse but still no capture.  The interest from the kids in checking the trap began to decrease.  We were nearly to the point of seeking out more drastic measures when the secrets of the little mouse friend were revealed.  Let me back up just a little.  Each night before bed I obssessively cleaned up the floors in the kitchen to be certain that I was not feeding this little house guest.  And every morning when I would wake up I would find crumbs scattered about in front of the dishwasher.  Silly me, I thought simply that I was too hurried the night before and didn't take the time to do a thorough enough job of sweeping and mopping.  So each night to follow I would try to be more and more meticulous only to feel as though I had again failed.  Then, the confessions from a sweet 5 year old girl tied all of the loose ended questions together.

Saturday morning I awoke to find Rhiannon ecstatic that the mouse had eaten the raspberry muffin crumbs she had left the previous evening.  She then went on to so proudly declare to me that she had been routinely feeding the furry pest because she felt sorry for it.  The mouse must have overheard the conversation and felt with no more enablers, he was doomed at last.

It was Saturday evening when little mouse made his suicide run...accross the kitchen floor right before, yet again, Dusty's very eyes.  It was into a slight opening between the wall and my hutch that the mouse found a small crumb he had his heart set on; then the loud noises, and me and Dusty finding ourselves standing, yet again, on chairs to avoid the little vermon.  It was a good thing that Nat was still living with us, Fearless Nat.  We called her down to aid in Operation Mouse Removal only to find her joining us on a kitchen chair as well.  We had a barbell in the kitchen for some strange reason, (you cannot tell me it was simply this little guy's time to go) and it later served as the weapon of choice to send poor mousey to the other side.  Literally, none of us dared get a closer distance than on the direct opposite end of the barbell to the creature.  It was then that our genious planned was put into action.

We carefully slid the trap to the only opening the poor mouse might have had to escape, keeping our safe 5 foot distance, mind you and then we just sat.  I am not sure if words can truly paint a vivid enough picture for you to truly understand the circus-like-nature of this ordeal.  It truly was nothing short of histarical.  I won't petrify you with the grafic details to follow.  Just know that little mouse friend is no more and it is for the greater good of my kitchen chairs and my sanity.  And might I add, Dusty should be feeling extremely blessed to have such strong women in his life.  Ha ha ha.

Now, sweet Rhiannon fully understands that there will be a day in the future when she will have a pet but it will NEVER, and might I repeat NEVER, be of the rodent sort.  Whew...peace at last.