My weekend got EVEN BETTER, if you can believe it.
After staggering downstairs in search of coffee on Saturday morning, I was greeted by the usual sight of Jason making pancakes for the boys.
Oh, and this, sitting on our kitchen counter:
I took one look at that tiny pointy seizing rodent poop monster -- on my COUNTER, in my GLADWARE, which once held CHRISTMAS COOKIES -- and turned around and marched right back out.
Noah climbed down from his stool -- and his breakfast, which was also on the COUNTER, just INCHES away the scratchy disease-ridden furball -- and chased after me, imploring me to come look! Come look, Mommy! He's our FRIEND, Mommy! Don't worry, Mommy, it's just a little mouse, and he's a friendly mouse, Mommy.
He took my hand and pulled me back into the kitchen, where Jason was practically on the floor laughing at Noah's earnest reassurances (the very same patch of floor where this very same blinky jumpy dwarf rat thing had been brazenly skittering around at all hours of the night for weeks, BY THE WAY).
I indulged Noah and looked directly into the big bulging eyes of the furry helldemon and said yes, he seemed like a very nice mouse.
"His name is Any," Noah said. "I love him."
I glared at Jason and asked him what kind of trap had finally caught the vile bald-footed sewer-dweller and he showed me a collection of humane traps he'd picked up at the hardware store. "I've had to put new bait in them a couple times because he kept going in there and then getting back out. Last night he finally got stuck."
He added, "He REALLY likes peanut butter."
I poured a cup of coffee and eyeballed the pocket-sized ball of plague, who was up on its hind legs, trying to nibble on the airholes Jason had punched in the lid. The container already had a unbelievable amount of mouse shit in the bottom.
The plan was to drive out to the deep 'burbs that day to take the boys to a splash park, and release the skittering itchy shifty-eyed beastrat in the fields nearby. It took us a bit longer to get ready than we thought, and when I went back into the kitchen to pack up some water and snacks, I noticed it was sitting completely still, curled up in the corner.
"OH SHIT," I thought, and poked the container. It jumped up in a panic and started racing around so hard the container moved and I did an involuntary girlscream and jumped back about four feet. It stared at me through the festive red plastic lid. I stared back.
I noticed it had eaten all the dog food Jason had so kindly provided for it a few hours earlier.
I went to the pantry and pulled out a box of Cheerios, and God help me, I peeled back the Gladware lid and quickly tossed a couple bites of cereal inside. I debated putting a little water in the container too but thought that might just scare it more than anything. It stared at me some more.
"I still DON'T LIKE YOU," I hissed at it. "Just so we understand each other."
I think maybe it nodded. Or else it was just the beginning stages of some rodent-bourne palsy that will one day wipe out humanity. Either way, I think it got my point.
We drove a good 20 miles away and released Any the Mouse in a park, near a dumpster by a soccer field. The Gladware went directly into the dumpster. Now let us never speak of this again.