"Inside my house, there was a mouse . . ."

from the book Inside Mouse, Outside Mouse by Lindsay Barrett George

We have this book. I've read it to Annie a hundred times, complete with cutesy rhyming stanzas and fun illustrations. At the end of the book, the inside mouse and the outside mouse crawl up to opposite sides of the same window, raise their little claws, and say, "Hello."

When a very large mouse scampered from my sink across my kitchen counter and jumped behind my oven this afternoon, I did not say, "Hello." I did the following things:

1. Thanked God that the girls were happily and obliviously drinking hot cocoa with marshmallows at the dining room table (and, subsequently, imagined the hell that would have ensued for weeks - months! - if Annie had seen this occur).

2. Called my parents to inform them we'd be coming for dinner.

3. Called Jason and left him a semi-dramatic message on his cell phone about the importance of getting mouse traps on the way home.

4. Packed a bag, all while darting furtive glances at my oven and plotting the nearest counter to jump on.

5. Left my house, not to return until Jason was home from work at 7:30.

I am not usually this much of a wimp (as my mom helpfully pointed out to me, "It's a mouse, not a snake"), but something about knowing exactly where it was and knowing it was bold enough to romp across my counter in broad daylight made me think I might not be comfortable here for the rest of the afternoon. It was actually a nice excuse to spend dinnertime with my parents. Annie regaled them with newly-learned facts about arctic animals (Blubber! Penguins!), we got a free dinner out of the deal, and I arrived home just in time to pop them in bed, all worn out from a lot of Polly Pocket and vintage Cabbage Patch Kids action.

On our way home, we passed the hospital. As usual, Jemma shouts out, "Hospital! Me born!" and Annie is prompted to give a long, hopeful speech about how many babies are being born there Right This Second. Tonight she said, "I know how a baby gets in your tummy. They sew your tummy open (?), and then put all the little pieces of the baby in there, and then they sew your tummy back up, and then all the little pieces grow together until it's a baby! Then it comes out. When I'm a grown-up, that will happen to me."