I Hate It When He's Right

I've mentioned before that Mr. MOTH is a city boy. He doesn't hunt, fish, or do any of that redneck stuff that goes on out here in the country. And he most certainly does not want members of the woodland creature family coming into our home. For as long as we have lived in this house he has been adamant about keeping the doors closed. You MUST close them AS SOON AS your foot is inside lest a little varmit decides to scurry in. I think he's nuts, but I do my best. I hate it when he's right.

Friday morning while Mr. MOTH was watching the kids, I was walking down the hallway towards a much-anticipated shower when an aforementioned woodland creature scurried ACROSS MY EVER-LOVING FOOT!! I screamed like a school girl and tried to speak a coherent sentence to let my DH know what the hell was going on. Once I started breathing again, I explained that it had run into the living room. Mind you, I am still in my pajamas at this point as is Mr. MOTH. Our living room was not exactly neat - and even when it is there is all manner of trappings associated with having a house full of small children - blankets, car seats, diapers (2 different sizes), toys, etc. There is a plethora of places for a teeny, tiny mouse (and I'm the first to admit it was teeny, tiny) to hide. {SIGH} We (OK, mostly he) began systematically moving stuff out - using a yardstick. What the heck we thought we were going to do once we spotted it I have no idea, but that's how it started.

I went upstairs to deal with the screaming baby (who had been sleeping soundly until her mother freaked out), to close the doors to all of the rooms upstairs and also to put on some shoes. By the time I came back, my husband was starting to doubt my sanity. "Are you sure you saw it go into the living room?" Uh, yes! Yes! I am! We both knew where we would go if we were a mouse. We have a sectional and behind the corner piece we store blankets and old comforters that we use for the kids to play on and to snuggle with when we watch a movie. {SIGH}. But just to be sure, he was flipping over individual sections as he went. On the far side he flipped up the section and he freaked out (in his defense, there was no school girl screaming). Now the critter is on the run - "He's over there! He's on the end table! DO SOMETHING! He's under the TV stand! GET SOMETHING! (at one point Mr. MOTH said we looked like something out of Christmas Vacation:-)" Meanwhile, the kids are all sitting at the kitchen table - clearly entertained. This was better than Playhouse Disney! (Youngest Boy now tells everyone he Finally! Saw! A real! Live! Mouse!).

I had closed the upstairs doors and all of the downstairs doors...except the one to the pantry. So of course it runs into the pantry - and I shut it in. Now the genius that is my husband (and I mean that literally not sarcastically) decides to block the exit with an empty box and we start systematically removing everything from the floor of the pantry - the breadmaker, the wine chiller, the stand mixer, the juice boxes, and then nothing is left...and no mouse. I am starting to freak out. IT'S A PANTRY!! All of our food is in there!

Mr. MOTH: "Well, maybe it ran into the box."

The Mommy: "Yeah, right. Don't you think we would have seen it? Surely we would be able to hear it trying to get out!"

Mr. MOTH: "What, you think it's having a party in there? Will you just look when I flip the damn box over?"

The Mommy: "AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH! IT'S IN THERE!!!"

Mr. MOTH: *smirk*

I hate it when he's right.

Now we have to dispose of it. He asks me what to do with it. My version involved a shovel and the critter's head. His version...not so much. He said it just looked so scared in there! So he poisoned it. Nice.

Although when Mr. MOTH asked what to do with it, Youngest Boy said, "Feed it some cheese?"

And to top off this little adventure, we decide to set traps around the perimeter of the house. Baby Girl promptly snapped her fingers in one this afternoon. This time, I was right.