Mousetrap

For not one but TWO nights earlier this week we were kept awake way too late by a small furry creature {of the rodent variety} that had made his way into the house and onto the third shelf of our pantry. And, apparently, the unwelcome little pest shares my affinity for Wheat Thins.

The Spouse knows a little too much about microbiology and is, therefore, an admitted germaphobe. So, this whole “a mouse came into contact with food that we eat” escapade nearly sent him over the edge. And, I’ll be honest. I spent quite a bit of time on top of a chair this week, with chills, because I’m not exactly helpful when it comes to rodent extermination myself. Unless shrill screams are helpful for locating the target.

So, the first night was bad. It was late when we discovered his crumb-covered face staring at us from amidst the cracker boxes, and he escaped while the Spouse mulled over his plans to capture him. {On the plus side, this whole incident forced an immediate and thorough cleaning out of the pantry}. 

The second night, though, we were ready for warfare. And, as feared, the perpetrator returned to the same shelf of the pantry in search of more of my beloved crackers. With sticky mousetraps strategically placed all over the dining room, the Spouse chased our mouse friend behind a large hutch. 

Despite our best efforts to keep this whole saga a secret from the girls {because I knew the Preschooler would need to ask one thousand questions and possibly never get over it}, we wound up having to tell them why we were holding broomsticks and standing on chairs. And, of course, the 1st-Grader had to ask if we could keep the mouse as a pet. Um, no. I don’t care if Mickey Mouse is his uncle, I don’t do rodents. I did promise her, though, that our goal was merely to capture the mouse rather than to murder the mouse. 

The evening drug on without any success. But, around 3:00 AM last night, the Spouse and I were both awakened to what sounded like a scuffle going on in the dining room. And, sure enough, the sticky pads had done their job. The Spouse was so proud of his strategy. And, we had kept our promise to the girls. Captured, not killed. 

And, so, in the words of the Toddler, “Buh-bye.” You’ll have to find your Wheat Thins elsewhere, Mickey.