Squeak, squeak, click.

 

This morning in a fit of "What happened to the basement!? Get down there and clean it up!" the following occurred. 

Son #2 came up from the basement and said, "Son#3 found a mouse in a box in the basement."

- My head says, "Oh no! Do I have traps. This is NOT a good thing!"

 I asked him where son#3 found it.Wondering if it was in my food shelves area. (While not Mormon, I do have a stash of stored cans, boxes, BJ's sized packages and a freezer. Yes, I have food in my basement. Do you?)

He yelled down the stairs, "Where was it? What was it near?" He had to yell this several times because either son #3 was ignoring him or  deaf. This isn't a large house after all. 

--- "Near the sink!"  says the #3 finally. ---

Sinking feeling. My thoughts, "Even worse since it's further from the shelves with the food and the bulkhead...there must be more because that's further into the basement. Oh Lord, what am I going to do now?"--- 

 Says I to #2, "We'll have to check the food area and see what's going on. I hope they haven't gotten into much. Especially the baking stuff." (Like I have time for this really!)

 And he says, "MOM! Not THAT kind of mouse!" And he holds up this....

Sigh.

Relief.

and... laughter from Son #2. 

"Why did you think I meant a live one!?"

Generation gap, right?

What would YOU think if someone said to YOU, "I found a mouse in a box in the basement."