Cinderella and her mice

I love the beloved tale of Cinderella. I love the evil step-sisters saga, the charming prince, the fabulous glass slippers, and even (although I can’t believe that I am saying this) the sweet mice that loved and helped Cinderella to achieve her dreams. I always thought to myself “I wish that I had a herd of mice that could fancy a dress for me to wear, help me do chores, or summon help when I am in danger"

What was I thinking?

Last night Bryson and I returned to our home at approximately 10:30pm, exhausted from the day and ready to crawl into our snuggly bed. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I see a flash of furry darkness. Naturally my James Bond instincts kicked in as I shot up on the bed to assess the situation. I shouted my sightings to Bryson who responded “Are you sure that you didn’t see a shadow?” If I saw a shadow then this thing is Peter Pan. “No I am positive that I did not see a shadow”. “Was it a spider?” “If it was a spider then it was the fastest and largest tarantula in the world.” Bryson entered the bedroom…cautious…cautious…and then suddenly he saw it too, a flash of brown speed…a mouse…a huge fat mouse…a disgusting huge fat mouse…in my house. I hopped up on our dresser, sitting Indian style, and crying as the following events ensued:

Bryson crafted a device and a strategic plan and was ready to tackle the sicky rodent.

Bryson used our food saver box to trap the sucker in the bathroom

He could run (abnormally fast mind you) but he could not hide

Out of nowhere the little guy darted out of our bathroom, shot under our bed and ended up in my craft/shoe room


Using more food saver boxes and my very cute cushion top footrest Bryson managed to trap the creature under the water jug device

In the mean time I am crying, on the phone with my dad, my sister is laughing at me in the background of the phone call, and I am still sitting on top of the dresser. Finally at 11:30pm, mouse still under the jug, Bryson instructs me to run to Wal-Mart to buy a mouse trap. Still crying and still on the phone with my dad I hop in the car, sprint to Wal-Mart, buy 30 mouse traps, some ice cream (to make Bryson feel better), salt and vinegar chips (to make me feel better), and I was back at the house in a flash.

My dad provided me with a great pep talk that mice do not eat humans, nibble humans, crawl onto beds, or nest in one’s shoes. Bryson consoled me and my tears began to disappear…

He is my hero...

The moral of the story is that I hate the mice in Cinderella, I bet that Cinderella was annoyed by them, I bet that they scared her at times and that maybe…just maybe…she cried for an hour over them and poured out her soul to the lady at the local market (a.k.a. Wal-Mart) while she was buying items to kill them…just maybe.

So help the next mouse that enters my house.