Here, Mousie Mousie.

On Saturday Lacey and I went and had breakfast at our favourite little place, Bills. We share the ricotta hotcakes, and this time we were lucky enough to share our company with Ma and Lil Sis.

On our return we were walking home when I spotted two little mice high up a ledge of a nearby building to our house.

I squealed internally. I don’t hate mice, but I certainly don’t like mice. We had some as pets once as children. I happily let them scurry over my hands. As an adult, a few years ago, a mouse ran up my leg. I wasn’t expecting it. So I jumped. Well firstly I shook my leg until it came off. Then I ran. And then I jumped.

I jumped onto a couch and let out little girly screams for about five minutes, whilst everyone else laughed at me.

Ma, Lacey and I looked at the little mice for a while. One of their little tails was hanging off the ledge.

I think they’re dead, I said.

I think they’re burnt, said Ma.

Eh, muttered Lacey.

You should show Shane, advised Ma.

I will, I will, I replied.

Ma left us there and went on her way to start her day.

Lacey and I went inside and requested that Shane come with us. I want to show you something, I said.

I didn’t want to let on what they were just yet. I wanted to build up the ‘excitement’ as much as possible.

We stood there staring at the mice. I told him I thought they were dead, and that Ma thought they were burnt. Shane said nothing and just looked at them.

Throw something at them, I requested, to see if they’re alive.

Because my beautiful husband does as he is told. He picked up a handful of small rocks and started to lob them near the mice to see if they would scurry away.

I moved away. I didn’t want to relive the mouse up the leg incident of 2005.

The mice didn’t move. Either they weren’t scared of a few little pebbles being tossed in their direction, they were dead or they were fake.

Shane declared that they were toys. I wasn’t convinced.

Hit one, please, came my last request.

Shane gathered another handful of rocks, and start to throw them gently in the direction of the mice.

A few missed, a few went near…. and then one hit. I squealed, and jumped slightly.

The mouse. Well it wobbled. It was fake.

They must have been glued there, somehow.

It must have been a sight for onlookers. Our little family tossing pebbles at a ledge and me squealing like a little school girl.

We went inside, our little adventure over. Tricked by a few rubber mice. xx