Honesty

Tonight, Kora was massaging my feet while I read her bedtime story. She raised her hand and asked very politely, "Momma, when I'm done rubbing your feet, my I please go wash my hands because they are going to stink very much."

I, of course, allowed it.

What kind of restaurant is that, exactly?

So... we're driving down the road today, when David bursts out excitedly, "Nutcracker! I see Nutcracker!"

I had no idea what he meant. We do actually own the movie, The Nutcracker, but it wasn't playing. So...

Kora asked, with much verve, the question on everybody's mind, "Where, David, where?!"

David matched her excitement when he pointed out the window and said, "Right over there, Kora!"

We were all confused until he sheepishly added, "Oh, I mean Cracker Barrel."

Ooooohhhhhh. Right.

Anybody want to join us for a down-home meal from Nutcracker? =D

Rat news

We've had mice before, and we survived. But last week, we saw a R-A-T. I'm talkin' a big, honkin', furry, long-toothed, gnawin' rat with a tail that doubled his body size. The thing was bold, too, coming into the kitchen for a bite to eat while I was standing there doing dishes. He found a hole where the cabinet doesn't quite reach the floor, but it wasn't quite big enough to drag the WHOLE APPLE back through. So, one morning, I found a half-gnawed apple surrounded by tiny apple-peel scraps sitting in front of his escape hole.

We saw him four times today, each time in the dining room, like a little pet dog coming to clean up after our dinner. Only it wasn't a dog. It was a RAT. Gross.

Chris bought a snap trap and a glue trap, and I told him he would have to take care of it all, because a) I was scared I would break my hand on the snap trap, because I'm that clumsy, and b) I did NOT want to deal with the death of a warm, furry creature on my kitchen floor. I don't even like stomping on spiders (but I'm warming up to it!)

The first night that he set the trap, he smeared peanut butter all over it. After 45 minutes, he checked the trap, and the smart, brave rat had licked the trap clean without tripping it! Shees. I told Chris he should paste a hunk of cheese on top of the peanut butter, and put the snap trap adjacent to a glue trap to ensure success next time.

Well, next time, no luck. I guess the rat was sleeping. Or making rat babies. Let's hope not.

Tonight, however, Chris set the trap with peanut butter again in the kitchen, in front of his favorite hole. I went down the kitchen stairs to start the laundry, and, incidentally, found a cell phone in the washer. I was fooling with the battery as I topped the staircase, entering the kitchen, when I heard the sound of death--the snap of the snap trap. This is not a soprano snap, like a teeny mousetrap. This is a booming snare drum that demands your attention, and without thinking, I gave it my attention.

And I saw the rat breathe it's last. It quivered. It affected me terribly.

I hid behind the door and yelled for Chris. "Chris! Chris! CHRI-I-I-I-IS!!!"

He came running, thinking I had tripped the trap! "Are you okay?!" he yelled.

I asked him kindly to please take care of that, and then it happened. I broke down in tears.

I suppose it's one thing to see a dead rat in a trap you set for him. But it's another thing entirely to see the thing die.

I know, I know, most of you guys out there are thinking, "That is SO cool! I wish I were there!" And I admit, I am such a girl. But that's how God made me. Emotional and whiny.

And while I feel quite traumatized at the moment, I am glad that I don't have to share any more apples.

(PS Thanks to my very sweet, darling, and loving husband for taking care of the remains. I hope it's not all I get for Valentine's Day.)

Nothin' like it

Chris and I spent the evening in a hotel in Gatlinburg, which was wonderful, and when we returned home, all the children ran up to us, yelling, "Mommy!" and "Daddy!" and giving us big leg-hugs. What a beautiful, fantastic, enthusiastic love. Down the road, I hope we continue to share this type of love, and that those short-people leg-hugs turn into full-bodied bear hugs.

The Rat in the House

It's a new Dr. Seuss series. You don't want to miss it.

I've dealt with mice before. They are a minor inconvenience, excused because they are just so darn cute.

Not so with a rat.

He's ugly. He's scary. And he looks like he can gnaw my finger off if I look at him the wrong way.

I don't even know how to trap a rat... humanely... "tidily"... successfully.

He has the audacity to come out in broad daylight and scurry--make that lumber--over my feet in the kitchen.

He chewed a hole the size of Lake Eerie in my bag of pancake mix and went for a swim in there. Then, as an afterthought, showered off in my rice.

A rat.

Ick.

I shiver.

and I will not sleep well tonight.