I HATE mice, well, any rodent for that matter. I'm a farm girl who has seen many mice in my day, and they still freak me out. I have many stories of me hiding up on a counter or screaming at the tiniest of mice. So you can understand my pounding heartbeat when Lily came to me yesterday morning.
Lily: Mom, I saw something run across the toy room.
Me: Like what kind of something?
Lily: Like a mouse or rat.
Me: (Totally freaking out) How big was it Lily?
Lily: Like this big. (Holding her hands to show a good size mouse)
Me: Where did it go?
Lily: It's behind the TV.
Me: Go see and tell me if you still see it. (As I stand at the edge of the room, not going in, Lily looks behind the TV).
Lily: It's still there. It's just a moth.
Me: Really, a moth, SERIOUSLY?????
She convinces me that it was just a moth, but I am still a little weary. Last night I was watching TV and saw a tiny little mouse run into the porch. So Lily really did see a mouse, but may have realized Mommy was freaking out, then called it a moth.
So today I have declared war on this little mouse. I bought bait and traps. Is it a clique to put cheese in the trap? I cut a little piece of cheese and went to set the trap. As soon as I slid it into the little hiding place on the porch, the trap snapped and had me jumping 3 feet backwards into the doorway, smacking my elbow. After my heart slowed down a little, I looked and could not find the stupid piece of cheese. So I cut another piece of cheese and went to reset the trap. Four times that thing snapped before I finally got it where I wanted it. Four times I jumped! Where is my husband when I need him for these things! Which leads into the next problem. There is no way I am touching that trap if it actually catches a mouse. I will have to ask a neighbor to come dispose of it for me.
Guess I better start making cookies to bribe my neighbor!