House Wires and Mouse Houses

Tonight, just as we were beginning our second reading of Dora's Happy Mother's Day, Mami!, Stella interrupted me with, Shhh...what's that noisey?

I stopped and waited to hear what I figured was going to be a Heath screech, or a Granny puttering (she's staying with us while my parents are in California), or a neighbor rolling a bulky recycling/trash bin down a bumpy, concrete driveway. Whispers of Mark and Heath in his room could be heard. No sound of Granny, so she must have been tucked in the guest bed with her evening snack of chocolate and a Rachel Ray magazine from 2008. And sure enough, an emptied garbage container made its way back to its usual daytime station until next week.

But none of those were the noisey in question. Instead, her ears had been perked by a faint scritch, scritch, scritch behind the wall next to her bed. It would suddenly fall silent, only to crank up again, Stella making an O-shape with her mouth, hand popped over her lips in exaggerated shock. Scritch, scritch, scritch.

What's that noisey, Mommy? she demanded. I feigned ignorance for a moment or two, but I knew what we were dealing with behind the wall. Scritch, scritch, scritch had Critter written all over it.

I've had my share of the scritches over the years. In Chapel Hill, I lived in an attic with a family of chipmunks. One chipmunk can make a stunning amount of noise; an entire family will leave you curled up at the headboard of your bed, quite certain they are going to explode through the wall and eat you alive. And then there was our Oakhurst house that had mouse after mouse after mouse inhabitants, and two giant o'possum. Turns out humane capturing and setting them free in your backyard is only inviting them to come back night after night. We finally resorted to capturing them in a garbage pail and having Mark drive them to a wooded area a mile from our home. I found them creepy then, and I find them creepy now.

Stella and I called in the reinforcements to confirm that we were in fact listening to the pitter-patter of critter paws. Mark confirmed that it was most likely a mouse, and Heath immediately confirmed that it should be killed. Both Heath and Stella decided that a mouse in the house is a scary thing. Mark then took back the mouse proclamation and said no, he was mistaken, it's a house wire scratching against the wall.

I don't think they bought it. As Stella lay in her bed, singing the last round of the Thomas the Train theme song, she asked for reassurance.

They're two, they're four, they're--Daddy, say it house wire?

Thomas, he's the cheeky one. James is--Mouse is scary.

Gordon, thunders down the--what's that noisey?

Henry--is a mouse?

Toby, well, let's say he's--I scared, mommy.

I convinced her that it was a simple house noise, no worries. Now Mark is going to have to convince me that it isn't a pack of angry mice that are going to burst through her wall and lick milk off her face.