(This will be so much funnier if you knew my husband and I, but go with it.)
Last night, Jay told me he had to go to bed no later than 10pm. Well, we sat down to watch a show, that was only “supposed” to be an hour, but turned out to be, apparently, 2. Luckily, it was a DVD, so after about an hour we turned it off. So, it’s now 10pm. We go upstairs to do our nightly routines, one of those being to put Mikhail on the toilet so he won’t have an accident at night. Poor Jay looked so tired, I did that chore, then went to go do my own. Well, then Mikhail woke up (he’s never awake when we have him use the toilet), from a night terror. Ooof! That took 1/2 hour to settle down. Jay was most certainly not happy. . . So, it was off to bed at almost 11ish.
Trust me, this is a G-rated bed-time story!
I have to tell you, one of the most infuriating things about Jay is his ability to drop to sleep in an instant. Add that to his ability to sleep through most anything, AND most definately kids crying in the middle of the night. . .well, you get the idea.
So, he’s off in la-la land while I am laying there playing out the day, and planning the morrow; and then, the cat starts meowing.
If you have a cat, then you know that cats have different meows that mean different things. It is pretty much guaranteed, that a meow begun after the lights have been turned out and all is silent through the house means one thing: “I found something to play with”.
I was immediately cursing the milk jug manufacturers, for those little safety rings that they place on the jug lids. The cats love chasing those things when you throw them, bringing them back (yes, cats do fetch), etc. So, I called the cat to me, hoping to grab said milk ring and add it to the stash of 23 other night time confiscated milk rings in my night stand drawer.
She’s by the bed, meowing, and I’m telling her to hush, but she’s not getting close enough to reach, so out of bed I get, sure that if I don’t put an end to this soon, that she will wake the house with her noise.
She drops the object she’s holding, then darts after it. They love doing that, dropping those darn rings, batting them as soon as they touch the floor then tearing after them following the unknown direction it may go as it rolls across the floor. She brings it back, so I reach again to take it from her, but again it’s gone and she’s going after it. Darn cat! A third time, and I’m still too slow. This time though, I felt something fuzzy.
OOOOhh, thought I to myself. She found one of those blasted play mice. Now, I tell you, I only bought 3 of those little fuzzy mice (not the jingle bell ones, but the ones that are just a bit smaller, and supposedly have catnip in them). Those things multiply just as a real live mouse! I’m telling you, I only bought 3, yet there are currently 7 in my night stand drawer. Yes, all of those buggers were confiscated at night-time.
A fourth time I go to reach for the plaything. . .and then, I was suddenly wide awake.
My friends, it was NOT a play mouse! (‘course, you knew that didn’t ya?)
” Jay! Jay! WAKE UP! There’s a mouse in the house! I’m turning on the lights! Hey, are you awake??? Would you wake up!? There is a mouse and YOU need to get it!!! Gee, honey, sorry if the light is bright in your eyes, and that I had to wake you up, but you need to get this mouse out of MY house, RIGHT NOW!” (You need to read this at twice your normal speed to get a true feel for the urgency I was putting on Jay.)
(You know what’s terribly funny? I like mice, they are cute, and soft to hold. . .but not at night, not when we haven’t been properly introduced, NOT when they are seeing me in my PJs!)
Now, you must understand, that as easy as it is for Jay to fall asleep, it is incredibly difficult to wake him up. . .and he’s a bit, er, “growly” when he’s woken up in the middle of the night.
Add to that, when I am suddenly surprised I get a bad case of the giggles, you know the kind where you just CAN’T stop, and just when you think you have them under control they pop out again.
So, Jay was up and fussing at this poor frightened mouse, who had found his (her?) way under my dresser. The cat decided her job was done and left the room. Jay fussed at cat for not catching the poor mouse for him. I closed the bedroom door, thinking to keep the mouse “contained”.
Apparently, when Jay was trying to “shoo” the mouse out of the dresser towards the door where I was supposed to catch it, (yeah right!) the mouse went out the other side into the closet.
Jay, with all the tracking skills he possessed, finally discovered the little critter down in the closet. Now, we have a tiny closet, and my husband has a love of clothes, and of shoes. There was no way he was going to get the mouse out of there without removing things. The problem is, by this point Jay was awake enough to realize the sleep he was losing due to this pesky critter, and he was by no means a happy camper!
However, when one acts in anger. . .
Jay grabbed a handful of hangers and pulled them out roughly. He grabbed another, bigger, handful and yanked fiercely. . .
And the whole shelving / rod system (and all the clothing upon) in the closet fell on poor little Mousy.
(Please note that at this time I was still having issues stifling my laughter, but was standing dutifully in my appointed position, trying desperately to be quiet and calm, while also striving to give the appearance that I was honestly on the lookout and ready to grab the ratty culprit should he escape.)
At this point, Jay was using language that most certainly was not G.
The clothes started landing on the bed in huge piles. As the pile in the closet got lower, the clothes started appearing more slowly. Then, evidently, Jay spotted Terry, the mouse, (by this point we’d been through so much together for so long, I decided he needed a name), and tried to grab him. Terry however, had decided that this was a nut house and was trying his utmost to leave the premises, or at least the closet, immediately.
Poor Terry, he just didn’t know Jay long enough, or he would have realized it was in his best interest to get caught and released outside in the dark, freezing, unkind world. Jay had all intentions at the get-go to do just that. . .till the clothes came tumbling down.
Jay grabbed his Army boot, and that was the end of poor ole Terry. He was chucked unceremoniously out the back door (after, being “given the boot” what worse could have happened?)
I then spent the next hour helping Jay restore the closet shelving to rights (vacuuming, drilling, etc).
All four children slept through this whole episode!
I have yet to hang the clothes back in the closet.