Mouse in the House

Oh yes, you read that correctly. We have an unwelcome guest in our house. I came downstairs this morning and Madison was scurrying around a trunk we have at the base of the landing on the stairs. I got a sinking feeling and called Steve. Sure enough, she had found a mouse. It ran into the corner by the door. Graeme, Ian and I jumped onto the couch, while Steve went to the basement to retrieve mouse evacuation equipment (i.e., a broom and a bucket). We then opened the front door and tried to politely encourage it to leave peacefully. When that failed it ran behind the couch and we gave up. I sent Steve to Rite Aid for some traps (on the advice of
the neighbors who were walking their dogs and witnessed all the commotion at 6:30AM). We put a trap by the couch and were hoping for some remnants this afternoon. I am so uninterested in being humane right now. The damn cat retreated to the bedroom where she probably slept all day while the thrill of a lifetime ran loose throughout our house.

At one point the mouse ran into the play farm we have in the living room. "Mousie's in my farm," Graeme declared. Yes, dear, it does belong on a farm, but not this one. I grew up in the country and love returning to my roots, but I'm all about being a city girl here in Arlington and have no interest in playing farm for real.

We returned home to a very untouched trap. Graeme and Ian were both exhausted after a long day at school, so the dinner hour was a chorus of various decibels of wailing. We scarfed down some food and stuck them in the tub. About half-way through the bath Graeme decided that he had to poop - and once that train leaves the station there's no stopping it. Yes, please feel my pain and don't really try to imagine how very, very, very disgusting it is to have poop floating in your tub. I scooped Ian up before the offending material hit the water and yelled for Steve to retrieve Graeme. I then went to stick Ian in the crib while we got Graeme together only to find what I am pretty darn sure was mouse droppings on Graeme's sheets. Did we like forget to say thank you for something, or is all the shit quite literally hitting the fan (or water) at once this week? I put Ian on the toddler bed instead and got Graeme put together while Steve changed sheets. Both boys are finally asleep, even Ian who is on day two of sleep training (another post - I was up no fewer than 4 times last night getting him back to sleep).

We now have two traps set with the finest peanut butter and are hoping Mr. Mousie enjoys the dinner party we've arranged for him.