The Same, But Different

I found this book in my classroom library. Sounds so much fancier than "The Very Grouchy Ladybug", don't you think?

Say What?

Miscommunications that I've had with my students so far:

Bin = Garbage can
(Audible gasps when I asked my kids to put their books in the bin!)

Rubber = Eraser
(No explanation needed!)

Toilet = Restroom
(They asked me if a restroom was where you took a nap!)

They are also highly disturbed by my use of the term y'all! "But what does that mean?" "I can't say that word!"

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

I was sitting on my couch, sipping a delicious glass of red wine, and relaxing with a little blogging and facebook stalking. I glanced to my left, and saw this:

Okay, not this exact mouse, but a MOUSE! All beady eyes, twitchy ears and tiny claws. Our eyes locked for a brief moment before he scurried under the couch and I made a run for the kitchen counter. I felt safer up there, as I assumed that even though he had been able to scale the side of the couch, the slippery surface of the kitchen cabinets would protect me. Once my heart start beating properly again, I skyped Kelly hoping for some sisterly support, and sage advice. She mostly just laughed at me. She did however stay on the computer with me for the next hour, so that mostly makes up for the complete lack of sympathy. And in her defense, I did say some pretty ridiculous things like "I would have seen him if he came in the door with me", "He tried to snuggle with me on the couch"and "He's been running around touching all my stuff with his little mousey feet".

From my perch on the counter, I scanned the apartment but he was nowhere to be seen. He was clearly holding my couch hostage. I put a towel by the opening under my bedroom door because the only thing that could possibly be worse than a mouse on your couch is a mouse on your bed! I opened the front door in the hopes that he would smell freedom and make a run for it. No luck. With Kelly's encouragement I threw a book, hoping the noise would frighten him out. No luck. I slid a pair of scissors across the floor and under the couch. No luck. I moved the couch. Three times. No luck. Kelly then realized that my couch has a bed in it, so I would have to pull the bed all the way out to find him. He wasn't there. If the only thing worse than a mouse on your couch is one on your bed, then the only thing worse than a mouse on your bed has to be a mouse in your apartment that you can't find.

It was then that I saw his little mouse tail curling above the towel outside the door to the bedroom. Nooooooo! With the help of my handy swiffer handle, I scooted the towel towards the open door, the mouse curled up inside. Once the towel was out in the hall, I poked at it with the swiffer until he ran out and down the stairs. VICTORY! I rejoiced for a few brief moments until I realized he'd probably be waiting for me in the morning, with a gang of his little mousey friends... And that is the story of how I survived my first Dutch mouse attack.

Epilogue:
There was NOT a gang of angry mice waiting outside my door this morning :)
 I got a total of about an hour of sleep last night, because every time I heard a noise I was convinced it was the mouse scratching on my bedroom door, wanting to be let in :(