Once upon a time there was a Mom. A lovely Mom who was moving through her days of artfully managing her house and children, directing their education, and orchestrating family life with the grace of a beginning swimmer swimming in full snow gear. Boots and all. A lovely Mom who purchased week after week, green, juicy pears, for the sheer delight of her lovely children.
One morning this lovely Mom entered her kitchen to find this:
The pear had been placed back in the fruit bowl in such a way as to conceal the evidence from a passerby by facing the missing part toward the wall. The Mom laughed at how clever the culprit was!
A gentle conversation followed during breakfast with her lovely children.
"Did someone sneak a nibble of those delicious pears?"
"No, Mother" her four delightful children responded.
"I don't believe you. Let's not sneak bites of delicious pears." Mom replies.
The next morning, Mom enters her kitchen finding yet another pear with only one bite, clearly by a considerably hungrier mouth as more of the pear had vanished.
"Who is the someone sneaking bites of our delicious pears?" Mom asks.
"Not I, Mother." replies four delightful children.
((*it is at this point in our story that the lovely Mom learns that one of her delightful children has been DRINKING SYRUP secretly in the pantry...and yet another delightful child has located the Valentine's candy hidden by grown ups for only grown up consumption*))
"This sneaky eating is over! You need to ask, and I will help you." says the lovely Mom firmly.
The very next morning, much to lovely Mother's chagrin, there again, lies the topmost pear...delicious and green, juicy and EATEN. But not all, just one bite. A smaller more interrupted bite this time.
"Delightful children, come immediately to this part of the house in an orderly fashion and kindly wait to be interrogated." Mother calls with a moderately quiet voice.
The children arrive and dutifully line up. Full of innocence, modeling manners and respect rivaling those of past generations.
"Feast your eyes on this juicy pear, children. What do you see?"
"A bite, dear Mother!! Some has been eaten!!" the eldest exclaims, full of shock.
"You are correct!" says Mothers. "Which one of you will confess to this sin?"
"T'wasn't me." Four children emphatically reply.
"You are all liars", Mother responds. "Turn around and receive a reminder to help you keep from sneaking even one bite of these juicy pears in the future."
With only the smallest reluctance the children turned to receive the punishment for withholding the truth and went silently on their way.
Yet again, the following morning, the lovely Mother...maybe now not-so-lovely...entered her kitchen to find--there on the tippy-top-- a juicy green pear with another large bite removed. As she looked more closely (to examine teeth mark size) she noticed that this might actually be TWO bites. The nerve. The sheer audacity. The defiance paraded and loudly proclaimed in one (or two!) rebellious act.
***The 'conversation' that followed has been edited out of the story for security reasons.***
The lovely family left their home shortly thereafter to enjoy camping for three glorious days.
Upon reentering their home the evening of their return, Mother places the single small bag of items requiring unpacking from their journey on the counter. What happened next created a nearly catastrophic amount of shock in dear Mother. There, in the bowl, was a half-eaten pear. ?!?!!!! The house had been emptied! The dear children absent! And yet, the pear. With in just a mere fraction of a second, several events transpired. Dear Mother noticed with her shrewd eyes that there were crumbs trailing the fruit dish leading behind the toaster, astonishment increased as she yanked the toaster from the wall and revealed a pile of teeny bits. The bits were minuscule pieces of discarded peel! A flood of realization hit poor Mother, the pear had been consumed by a small rodent. This lovely Mom's past 'conversations' with her darling children passed quickly before her mind. She sank weakly to her knees (after a swift glance around the floorboards for the clearly very full mouse) and called her children to gather around her (amongst the single small bag of items brought in to be unpacked from their trip).
"My dears, I am so, so, so deeply sorry. I have been blaming you for something you (surprisingly) did not do. Over and over again I have 'gently' refreshed your memories regarding rules relating to sneaking food, and you didn't (*wellllll...*) need reminding. You have accepted punishment for lying, withholding truth, and for committing this heinous act due to your own Mother's grave error. I was wrong. I beseech you, will you forgive me?? Also, we have a mouse in our house."
Screaming ensues. Pandemonium breaks out. Hysteria. Chaos. (They did forgive their humiliated Mom after they were calmed down and reassured that the mouse would not maim them. Or eat them.)
Sticky traps were purchased and placed strategically. The mouse was elusive.
Pears were still eaten. ((And now thrown away and not fed to lovely children...and maybe a Mom--she can't really remember)).
Sticky traps were re-positioned. The mouse remained elusive.
Pears were still eaten.
Sticky traps were moved up to the counter next to the fruit bowl.
Pears were still eaten.
The eldest devises a plan to put the last pear into the corner of the countertop with a sticky trap placed right in front of it. The mouse proved himself a worthy adversary.
The pear was still eaten.
The eldest two children craft a more devious plan to use the same last pear surrounded completely by either wall or sticky trap. Every conceivable route was war-gamed and the plan was declared foolproof.
That night, at 12:30am. Mother awakens to the sound of a repetitive clamor from the kitchen. The mouse! Caught! As the lovely Mom lays calmly (and quite permanently) in her bed minute after minute she debates whether or not she should awaken her heroic husband. It must be better to allow him to sleep and return to sleep herself.
If not for that continuing clatter! After an agonizing thirty minutes, her brain concludes there are four possible scenarios:
Scenario One. The mouse was caught and tiring, soon to be waiting peacefully to be removed from the premises at 4:30am when her heroic husband would leave the house. From the sounds of it, not possible. And not kind to her heroic husband.
Scenario Two. The mouse was hopping so frantically that he was sure to free himself and rush (in his obvious rage) directly towards the family's bedrooms to enact his revenge and then never to be seen from again.
Scenario Three. The mouse was frantically tapping out Morse Code to draw large numbers of his vermin family members to his aide in his time of great stress.
Scenario Four. The mouse was bravely gnawing off his own leg to free himself from the conquering sticky trap and in the process showering the surrounding kitchen (all of it) with large amounts of blood.
Three of these were
Heroic Husband to rescue! He even documented this late night clean up for the children to see in the morning (I'll spare you the pictures). 2 Wal-mart sacks (double-bag that sucker), a trip outside to the trash-heap-container, lots of lysol, and 45 minutes later....
They slept happily ever after....for the next 2.5 hours.
