Mickey Mouse Club

Earlier this week there was an incident. With a mouse. Long story short, Cutie-head caught a mouse and I witnessed the whole, awful incident. She seemed to have a great time playing with it -- letting it go and then catching it again, over and over again until the mouse finally expired. It was at this point that both of the cats ... uh ... opened 'er up. It was decidedly unpleasant and, with steely resolve, I forced myself to get the dead mouse into a bag and out of my house. Problem solved.

Later that day I fetched Ruby from school and told her the story of Cutie-head and the mouse. She was very interested, especially in the remains of the mouse (you'll remember that this is the child who loves to watch the movie Jaws), so I showed her the dead mouse in the bag which I had put out on the porch just as any good mother would do (right?). The end.

Fast forward to about an hour later: I'm doing dishes and she's coloring at the table, or so I thought. I hear a tiny little knock on the front door and so I go to open the door knowing full well Ruby is up to something. I open the door and there is Ruby, holding the mouse bag, and she looks at me sweetly, shoves the bag toward me and shouts, "TRICK OR TREAT!"

I wish had some way to capture the maniacal laughter that followed, but you'll just have to take my word for it. Don't trust that sweet face for a second.