With the onset of spring, our homeschool science lessons had been taken outdoors, and both children were busy looking for insects, creepy crawly things, and, much to my chagrin, creating quite an insect zoo in the back room.
Suddenly, while I was busy reading (ahem), cleaning the house, the kids ran in, exclaiming that they'd found a baby mouse in the window well, and I should come and see it.
Knowing Little Miss and her lack of self control, I repeatedly reminded her not to touch it, throwing in, now and then, a comment about germs and rabies.
I arrived at the deep window well, and indeed, there was the most adorable, perfectly round, perfectly icky brown mouse, nibbling away on some little seed. I have to admit the little girl came out in me and I suggested we feed it sunflower seeds. After all, I thought, Mr. wouldn't want us touching it so we might as well...
Within a half and hour, Little Miss had found a tangerine orange crate, pieces of felt, and a bag of sunflower seeds, and made quite a home for 'Tit' - a name portraying Lil's innocence.
Despite my warnings about not touching it, I did hear her older brother squeal at her at least once, for getting too close.
Over the next 24 hours, the two kids watched, protected, and cooed over this little critter, who was too young to be afraid. The snow fell, and they added more felt underneath the overturned orange crate; early the next morning, Little Miss put in a small dish of water, overjoyed by the ripples in it while Tit drank. They were loving this.
Mr. was put in charge of breaking their hearts and setting it free. He gave them the weekend.
It wasn't until that night, when tucking Lil' into bed, that things took a turn.
"Mommy, what is the first sign of rabies?"
Good grief.
"I mean, is it a rash on your tummy, or a sore throat?" as she fidgeted under her covers. "What if an animal just scratches your skin?"
Grooaaaaann, I thought. "I am getting your father," who was on Little Miss duty that day. After we parents swapped positions and I went downstairs, I could hear the tears and the stern words coming from each of my redheads, and wanted to crawl under my own covers.
Apparently, she had not heeded my warnings, and had been bit by her Tit. (grin)
Instead of confessing earlier that day when it had happened, her brother had told her to keep quiet, and now she laying in bed with an enormous fear of catching rabies. Good grief.
Of course, now we could save the day, and become the amazing superheroes we were, at least for one night. Mr. Man, with help from Mr. Google, explained that mice didn't have rabies, and when questioned, I realized the little beast had not broken her skin. A huge hug, and another bedtime snack, and she was good to go.Ironically, Tit was never seen again. You can still see the remnants of the tangerine crate and pieces of felt, and any spare seeds that the birds have not picked up. When you are visiting, Little Miss will show you the barren area for a small fee.
But never fear my friends, there were still insects to find, caterpillars to feed, and earthworms to dig. Within hours, the children ran into the house, crying out that "there was a bird stuck in the downspout and I MUST save it!"
But that's another story...
