The other day was a very yucky day. While the kids were writing their stories, I went into the garage (our pantry) to figure out lunch. You know the times when you can think a remarkable number of things in just a split second? It takes far longer to tell what you were thinking than it took you to actually think it. Well, that is what happened here.
I stepped into the garage and was about to open our chest freezer when I heard something to my left—deeper into the garage. In that moment, I knew what it was. I did this quick inventory of kids and dogs and knew that sound could be nothing other than what I knew it was. The word never formed, but just these thoughts.
I turned to look and THERE IT WAS!!!! A mouse!! Oh, my whole body just ran with shivers as I typed that. In the moment I did what any self-respecting girly girl would do. (Wow, this is harder to write than I thought it would be. I might need to get a blanket to combat the goose bumps that are taking over my body!) I screamed and ran into the kitchen, slamming the door behind me. Both kids looked up startled while I stood with my hands on my face trying to collect myself.
Now, I will say that there was a time when I did all sorts of things that went against my girly nature. I killed spiders without a peep. I checked out strange noises in the night. I cleaned up horrifying diaper blowouts without vomiting. And I hugged and cooed soothingly on little people while they vomited all over me. I did it, with my audience none-the-wiser about what was going on on the inside.
But now my kids are older. They are going to have to come to terms with the fact that mice FREAK ME OUT. They are old enough to be cool with egg sandwiches twice in a row because the ingredients aren’t in the garage. And they can handle my random violent shudders for the rest of the day and my refusal to go into the garage even after---well, you know---because THERE MIGHT BE MORE!