There are a couple of seemingly-unrelated facts to consider here:
1. Luke is getting to be a BIG boy now, and that's important, because it means he's tall enough to stand up in his crib and -- get this -- REACH HIS LIGHT SWITCH.
2. Anytime the local crops are harvested lots of mice are unhoused. Don't think Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, think Willard. Okay, maybe not that bad but we get several mice in the house for about a month after harvest.
So...
This morning I was brushing my teeth again (apparently my schedule coincides with my wife's movement into my son's room) when I heard the following:
"Luke, stop it! Stop it!"
"HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"
"Luke, QUIT IT! Stop!"
"HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!"
Figuring I'd better help Mommy out of whatever her predicament was, I came around the corner just in time for Luke to wave gleefully at me from his still-pajama'd position in the crib and then reach up to demonstrate for me that as a Big Boy, he's perfectly capable of turning out his light no matter how many times Mommy turns it on. It's dandy fun, yeah? Yeah!!!
My wife, tactician that she is, was frantically searching for a mouse she'd seen run into the boy's closet, yet every time she reached over to turn on the light, she'd step away and the boy would giggle loudly and turn the light off once more.
Apparently this had already gone on for quite some time when I first opened the bathroom door and heard the commotion. I'd give most anything to have a score sheet of some sort...
"What's going on in here?" I asked.
"I saw a mouse," she told me. "It ran into Luke's closet."
"And what's the problem with the boy?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"I keep turning the light on so I can see and he keeps turning it back off!" she insisted frantically. At that instant Luke casually reached up and turned the light off in order to help corroborate her story, smiling happily at me as he did so.
"A-a-aa-and you can't win this?" I asked slowly. "An eighteen-month-old child has bested you?"
"I didn't want the mouse to get away," she said in irritation.
"You mean, like, while the light was off and you were over here in the dark trying to turn it back on?"
She looked at me. She looked volumes at me, and they weren't volumes with happy endings where everyone wins; it was more like graphic depictions of Poe and Lovecraft. The parts which make even fans wince a bit and grimace in distaste.
"Take the boy into the kitchen," I said, "I'll get the mouse if he's still here."
She left and I reached atop one of our cabinets and retrieved a pair of mouse traps to set. Maybe the mouse was still in the closet, maybe not. Me, I'm betting in all the commotion he made his way out with a parting Hey, thanks kid! Maybe I'll have a mouse when I get home, maybe not (and by that I mean in a trap, not as a guest).
Still, every day is kind of a new adventure.
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3 comments:
Cat= no mouse, no traps, & no poisons.
If you have a barn, you can have some barn cats and I'd be willing to bet you'd never see a mouse inside again. (Be sure to get them fixed tho.)
If for some reason you don't want a cat(s), (Why ever not?) Ferrets also make excellent mousers.
As for Luke and Mommy.... Stay out of it or grab your video camera. *Giggles*
Is there a way to rearrange the furniture so Luke can't reach the switch?
Otherwise, if Luke gets insomnia you'll see the light flickering on and off all night. And your neighbors will think you've gone into the electrocution business or you're performing some weird, Frankenstein experiments in there.
Alas, there really isn't another way to arrange furniture in there; I plan to move the crib enough that he won't be able to reach it. He already has some mild insomnia, a malady with which I grew up coping, and has indeed played with his light as you describe.
The first time he did this I saw the light come on and thought "Wow, that's weird, I never felt Kristin get out of bed!" So I reached out my hand and felt that she was still beside me, whereupon I immediately thought "Uh-oh..."
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