‘Twas the night before, the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a except for a mouse.
At lights out our “Elf On the Shelf” gets up to some crazy tricks, but last night he was respectfully quiet. By the way, I think there might be something going on between him and Mr. Potato Head. I’m not judging, just saying.
But, Hubby was not impressed that the elf and his spuddy polished off the last of the fruitcake.
Our dog who blesses us with nightly “canine night terror howls” was also uncharacteristically silent. And our daughter (part girl-part night-owl) who has been waking up every night for hours finally gave us a break too.
She and her brother stayed quietly nestled in their beds all night, and their day slept soundly with limited snoring, probably dreaming of sugar plums dancing in his head (the guy has a ridiculous sweet tooth).
As I attempted to drift off to sleep in my kerchief, I heard a “scratching, scurrying” sound from the ceiling directly above my head.
It could only be a mouse. Or perhaps a herd of mice. I’m terrified of rodents.I plugged my ears and tried to imagine our attic guest looking like this.
…but I could only imagine our vermin visitor looking like this.
So today, Christmas Eve day, I sent my husband out into the throng of last minute harried shoppers to pick up mouse traps. He didn’t seem to mind—he had to go out for replacement fruit cake anyway.