I am totally supposed to be working on my writing assignment for my meeting tonight, but I just can’t. seem. to. start.
Actually, I started. But I’m not too thrilled with what I have so far, so I’m not too motivated to finish. (I am beginning to understand why Maggie says “actually’ all the time. It is a favorite of mine too.)
So instead I am here. So I might as well share a story.
Maggie read a book about some mice that lived in a house. In a normal people-sized house, except that it had little doorways and the like, over holes in the wall that served as the entrance to the mouse’s house.
“We should set some mouse traps to put in our house near the holes,” she said. (Wait, we have holes in the walls? Where?)
“I don’t know how to set a trap.”
“Daddy does. Can we get him to set a trap.”
“OK.” (Some battles just aren’t worth it.) “What will happen to a mouse if we catch it?”
“Well, it will break it’s neck and be all dead. Then Daddy will throw it away.”
“Oh.” (wondering where my sweet, animal-loving innocent child has gone.)
Another minute passes before she continues.
“Or, we could catch it in our hands and take it to be outside where it can live. It likes to be outside in the air. We could give it some cheese and it could take it back to the mouse family and feed the momma and the babies. That would be good too.”
(There she is.)
“I think that’s a great idea. Let me know if you see a mouse.”