Okay, first of all, Justin doesn't need help from anyone, anytime, anywhere. Secondly, I was in the middle of bedtime, and he knows better then to interrupt this much anticipated time of day. So, I knew something serious must be going on. I told Carter I'd be right back and I ran downstairs to see him standing in the corner of the kitchen with a broom and a mixing bowl.
"Here", he said, "take this." (handing me the bowl)
Uuuhhh? And do what with it? Then I realized he had trapped a mouse behind this broken clock that I have no idea why I still let sit there. No matter...it proved useful tonight.
So the plan was for him to chase it out from behind the clock and I would slam the bowl down on top of it.
Yeah, right!
That little sucker was fast! He ran out of the kitchen, around the corner, into the mud room.
I told Justin I was just going to shut the door and leave he and the mouse to work it out. So, I did, but after a serious of bangings and clangings, the boys
(who were watching from up here.....)
yelled: "He went into the cubby!"
That's what we call this little room, directly across from the mudroom. It's not big enough for anything except Carter's made up club. It's usually a pig pen, as was the case that night.
It looks good now, but that's only because I insisted the morning after this happened that he clean up his crap. So, anyway, we decide that we'll scare it out. So Justin starts stirring the mess of toys with the broom. Every once in a while, he'd beat the toys. Nothing. I dared get down in there and look around with a flashlight. Nothing. There's no way the mouse would be still want to be in there during all the broom stirring. We assumed the boys were wrong. After a few minutes we both concede defeat, and I went back upstairs to finish Carter's story.
Now, the rule at my house is once you're in bed...you're in bed. None of this coming out to get a drink crap. Or going potty one more time. Or I forgot to hug you. NO. Bedtime is bedtime at my house and once you're in, you're in. So, Carter, despite all the commotion, stayed put. I'll admit at first I was surprised. After all, these could certainly count as extenuating circumstances and we're pliable parents ...to some degree.
As it turns out, he stayed in bed out of sheer fear. As soon as I got back up into his room, the first thing he said was:" Oh man! Who got the beat-down down there!?"
Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha! He thought one of his brothers was in big trouble. It reminded me of last year's mice incident where I grabbed a baby mouse by it's tail and took it outside so Justin could beat it to death with a rock. All the while Carter was screaming: "His momma is going to be looking for him!"
AAAHHH..the joys of building a house right in the middle of a field.
Oh, and as a couple of side notes...
1. He was in there after all. As soon as I went upstairs he ran out of the cubby, back into the kitchen, and under the stove. He clearly knows his way around my house! Great!
2. We have never, nor will we ever, chase our children around the house trying to beat them with a broom. I don't know what Carter was thinking.
