Today I saw a mouse in my son’s room.
A mouse.
Stewart Little has decided to come into my house and set up camp near my son’s drawers.
I saw it and I froze.
And it was the kinda freeze that you feel like you shouldn’t even breathe. Where your air escapes your lungs.
I’m trying to find my pulse again when my daughter decided to strut into the room with her toddler swag and I screamed no! And it wasn’t just any no.
It was the loudest noooooooooooooooooooooo I’ve ever made in my life.
I decided to call my husband because there's a mouse in the house, and when there is a mouse in the house other than blow torching the house down there isn't much in the way of rational thinking.
He answers the phone and I say "mouse". I stutter because I'm terrified. This is no Mickey Mouse okay. This is Ratatouille but smaller and he isn't making some delicious soup, he's going to make babies everywhere and in my son's ears and they'll crawl in my mouth... mouse in my mouth!!!
"Huh?" He says
"Mouse in house," I say still shaking.
"Cat in hat" he replies.
"No babe, there's a mouse in Luca's room! You need to come home NOW and take it outside!"
"Oh bub you just take it outside, or just kill it"
"Kill it???"
Listen: Some fibs make parenting so much easier. (Post continues after audio.)
Obviously, this guy hasn't seen the movie 'Witches' where the witch turns into a mouse after eating soup and gets stomped on by the chef and green pus sprays out.
"There are children in the house, your children. You need to come here. I can't save them"
He laughs. He thinks I'm joking.
This face isn't joking. This face is scared that this mouse is going to radio the rescuers and call his other mice friends to come and have a pebble poo party orgy. NOT ON MY WATCH MOUSE. Not on my watch.
But of course, he can't see my face because he's on the phone.
