We celebrated our nation’s independence at the steamy, yet beautiful Greenleaf State Park. Though we prefer tenting, it’s July in Oklahoma and sleeping bags aren’t safe for infants. So we stayed in a rustic stonewalled cabin with my parents. Joey’s parents joined us for the day too. Such fun!
Around 1:30 in the middle of last night I heard plastic bags rustling. Startled, I drowsily poked Joey in the stomach, softly at first then harder as I came out of my slumber. Joey used his phone’s flashlight to prove there was nothing to be afraid of, but caught a pair of beady eyes in the trashcan by our bed. A large mouse (not the cute tiny kind) was trying desperately to escape. So that terd next to Joey’s toothbrush yesterday was mouse poop! Acting fast, Joey grabbed the plastic liner and tied it in a knot, trapping the monster inside. Lifting it out, he realized there was another mouse inside the trashcan. It seemed like ten minutes while Joey was deciding what to do next, but he finally (and heroically) ran out the front door in his undies, flinging one mouse into the woods and smashing the other inside the bag. Dis.gus.ting.
Ironically, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Same group of people, same type of cabin, one fall evening a few years ago we heard rustling in the kitchen. Dad flipped his headlamp to a bloody glow and said, “Code red!” before venturing out to find the mouse in his underwear. We’re fans of Fievel, Mighty Mouse, Ratatouille, Reepicheep and Despereaux just as much as any elementary schooler, but in real life, they are gross. Next vacation it’s a tent or a hotel.