A Mouse in the House

Yesterday, Christian came bearing a gift for me as I worked furiously on the computer.  He and his brothers and friend were outside and found a disgusting, dead mouse that his friend's cat had already found.  It may have been slightly alive, but I'm not sure. Stuart Little it was not. 

Christian: "Look what we found, Mom!" And the critter was curled up in his hand.

I realize now that the boys like to see my reaction. I still do not touch bugs or gross critters (like toads or caterpillars), but I am not as afraid of them as I used to be.  Earlier I had found a loose cricket that Christian failed to put into the froggy cage and I trapped it under a cup. I'll do things like that: save bugs under a cup for Mike or Christian to dispose of outside.  But bring a nasty thing like a mouse into the house? Well, that just about did it for me. 

I jumped out of my skin and screamed.  They thought my reaction was soooo funny and ran away laughing.  I was fuming.  I made them place the thing into a plastic bag, then I placed it into the garbage, which was then thrown outside into the can.  And then they each had to make a trip to the bathroom and scrub their hands with soap and water.  One of my worst nightmares is finding a surprise in the washer, dryer, or toilet. Or finding a mouse or raccoon in the house.  Or head lice on one of the kids. My skin is starting to crawl.