Last year, we had a pretty rough time with mice in our house. It's an older house with a stone foundation, so I always expect a few unwanted creatures to lurk in the basement. But last year the mice - oh the mice! The mice took over our home, crawling through walls, eating random bits of paper in our bedrooms, on our nightstands, gnawing and crunching long into the night. It was terrifying and disgusting and awful.
So you can imagine the hair begin to rise on the back of my neck the other night when I heard the distinct noise of crinkle and crunch. OH NO. NOT AGAIN. I lay in my bed, straining my ears for the noise, bracing myself for another winter of The Mice. I listened and began to plan when I'd call the exterminator, how much poison to lay out, and where to set new traps.
Except, this crinkly crunching was somehow louder than last year. And not nearly so menacing. And seemed to be coming from across the hall. The crinkly crunching was almost... rhythmic... it seemed to crunch in time with the sucking of a pacifier.
I peered into Gavin's crib. He was fast asleep, gently crunching the crinkly ears of his beloved Mickey Mouse.
So it seems we do indeed have a mouse situation again this year. Albeit, a far cuter mouse! Let this be the only mouse in my life this year. Please.