Confession: I am a typical girl in many ways. I like the color pink, I enjoy the occasional shopping trip, and I love Dunkin’ Donut mocha iced lattes.

Another case in point: When a mouse scurries across the floor and darts at my feet, I scream.

Yes, I screamed when I saw the tiniest mouse scurry across the kitchen floor yesterday. Mostly because I was certain it was some horrible enormous brownish sort of bug – really, I’ve never seen such a tiny brown mouse before! I screamed and the world–er, all of my younger siblings–came running, too late to see our new friend run under the stove, out of sight.

I didn’t think we’d see our mouse friend again, especially after the rush of the herd of elephants came through and made such a racket, but an hour later, I happened to glance down at my feet. There, just a little more than a foot away was our mouse, nibbling away at a crumb of Oreo from Chocolate Storm Cloud Dessert that we’d dropped while cleaning earlier.

When in need, call a brother. “JON!”

“Just a minute!”

A minute passed by and the mouse didn’t even react to my yells for help. He didn’t react to me stepping even closer. And he didn’t react until after I plopped a glass over him and captured him mid-bite of Oreo. Poor Ralph – he didn’t listen to his mother, I suppose.

Jon took care of the rest of the dirty work; with a trail of kids, he took the mouse to the farthest corner of the yard and let him free. Well, sort of. They put him in the garden and Nate fed him gerbil food. 😛 You can’t say we’re cruel to animals around here. Now the story about Nate giving my mom a dead mouse for her birthday…that’s another story.

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