Liz’s Rants – The mouse saga continues

Here’s a quick update on the mouse… or mice. Or, following the goose/geese singular to plural, is it mouse/meese?
Whatever the case, our mice/meese status changed a mere 3 minutes before University of Louisville captured its first Big East title (see, Dad? I do pay attention.)
The loud snap from the kitchen found Colton and I staring at eachother, knowing that we knew that a mouse, a trap, and a stale piece of bagel had just wrapped up a short-lived (don’t say it) battle.
But that wasn’t the worst part – I mean, knowing that we were mouse murderers. The worst part was that we were forced to address the situation and dispose of snap-neck mouse.
To be fair, in a seven-year-old boy’s eyes, this is an adventure, that least to a certain degree. As I bravely entered the kitchen, ever so carefully peeking around the corner, he walked on my heels, cackling with glee for adventure’s sake.
Until I squealed. And he jumped five feet in the air. There was great vengeance in that from my perspective.
“I thought you weren’t scared.”
“I’m NOT!”
“Then be a good boy and get that mouse outta here.”
“No way, Mother.”
It was clear he was going to be a follower, not a leader. I really thought I’d taught him better – taught him to stand up and, well, take the lead.
No go.
“Ok,” I said. “Let’s get shoes and coats on.”
It’s amazing the things you can come up with as a way to procrastinate. I’d just bought us at least three minutes.
Then I went after a plastic bag, which we’d use to dispose of the body. For the first time since catching a glimse of the mouse in the corner of our eyes, we were getting an up-close look at the crime scene. There was no way I was going to risk touching the mouse carcass.
So we scrambled to find something long and sturdy – winding up with a piece of cardboard – and pushed the trapped mouse within easy reach. Colton held the bag, I lifted the trap and dumped the dead body in the bag.
“You DID it, Mother!”
I hate to admit it, but the worst part had truly been the anticipation of ridding the house of the mouse. We’d pulled the disposal off without a hitch.
I was almost gloating when i relayed the news to Dad this afternoon.
“One down!” he’d said.
I read between the lines that I knew he didn’t need to say aloud. Because he’d said them before. “Where there’s one mouse, there are 50.”
Looks like I’ll need some more mouse traps.