Mouse Hunt

To get ready for a yard sale, I spent every waking hour this week (that I wasn't nursing or fixing meals) down in the basement going through our junk. Unfortunately I discovered evidence that a mouse was residing there. I picked up some mousetraps and prepared them late one night.

Man! Those suckers hurt! I REPEATEDLY snapped my thumbs trying to set the traps. I felt like I was in a Tom and Jerry episode!

I ended up bruising my right thumb...
...and my left.

I'm not the type of woman that flips out when I see mice, snakes, or bugs, but I have to admit I was a little nervous walking downstairs the next morning to see if the traps had been sprung. And one of them was. Ick!

Elizabeth was away at a tennis clinic that morning, but you'd better believe the other kids were right there watching me dispose of the little vermin. When Elizabeth got home I told her about the mouse and asked her if she wanted to see it. She did, but she told me to wait a minute. She ran up to her room for a while. When she finally came downstairs I led her to the garbage can outside and showed her the mouse. She felt sorry for the little critter and then dropped something on top of the mouse.

While in her room she quickly crafted a little tombstone for the mouse that read:

R.I.P.

Fred the Mouse

Born: Sometime

Died: June 9, 2011

Rest in Peace, Little Fred!

A Cracked Windshield And An Interrogation

One evening last week as I drove to Ross's 468th baseball game of the season I heard a mysterious crackling noise that sounded like glass breaking. After a quick scan of the windshield, I found it to be in one piece. I asked, "What was THAT?!" Elizabeth said it was Ross's water bottle, so I figured she was correct. She was not. After the ball game, I got back in the van and saw a four inch crack at the bottom of the windshield. Fantastic.


Luckily I know a pretty great insurance agent who called in a report as soon as we got home. Usually the glass company we use comes down to us from St. Louis. I had to take Ross to his endocrinologist the next day in St. Louis, so I set up an appointment for the crack to be patched while we were in the city. We got out of our endo appointment earlier than usual, so I headed over to the glass company to see if they could get us in earlier. They couldn't. We had to leave and come back two hours later. In those two hours the crack spread. And spread. And spread. Beyond repair. We now had to have the windshield replaced. Since Ross and I were on a tight schedule (because we had to get back for his 469th baseball game) I told the glass company I would need them to come to our house the next day to replace it.


The service technician arrived at our house the next day, and of course the kids wanted to watch.

All started out well enough. Then came lots of questions from Elizabeth (ever the student) to the nice glass man. "Is that black stuff glue?" "Is that a big screw driver?" "Can I have the old windshield?" Wanting to join in on the questioning, Mallory thought of her own questions to ask: "Is that that you're standing in, grass?" followed by, "Do you want to see a dead mouse?" Thankfully this man was a grandpa and simply smiled.

The kids began to grow weary of watching the van get repaired. The girls decided to trade shoes. Mallory tried on Elizabeth's sneakers, and Elizabeth paraded around in Mallory's dress-up shoes. She was looking good.

Next the boys got out the basketball. After narrowly missing the stand that held the new windshield, I thought it best for Mr. Glassman's sanity and mine to send everyone inside.

I'm sure Mr. Glassman appreciated the peace and quiet while working in our van - that is until Mallory got a hold of my keys and hit the Panic button. I'm sure that man nearly soiled himself.