A mouse and daddy

As part of our “be healthier” program we are having our children eat their vegies and fruits first before they take a serving of anything else. The hope is that they will be hungry enough and motivated enough by the good smells to eat their vegies. It takes a good deal of consistency, but I think we have already recognized the potential. This is, however, much easier for some of our children than others. Take Rhyse, for instance; she loves vegies and often finishes them first of her own accord. Capriel could certainly be found on the other end of the spectrum. Capriel’s perfect world would consist completely of carbohydrates, with crackers at the top. So our new routine is pinching her style just a little! She has told us a number of times that she just can’t eat vegetables because she will throw up. As ridiculous as it sounds, we have had many opportunities to witness this during our mealtimes.

One evening-with a particular intriguing treat in store Capriel labored alone at the counter trying to finish her anti-oxidant rich vegies. As anyone who knows Capriel well can attest-Capriel is not one to easily give up her schedule-especially if it involves treats. Her life evolves around “what is next” and “what is today” type questions. She wanted this “next” thing (the treat for all who ate their dinner) badly enough to resort to twisted and dark ways. As we were all doing the dishes (having long since consummed our own food, she snuck quietly into the bathroom to spit the offensive vegies out into the garbage. We become aware of this only after a peircing scream (a Capriel specialty) resounding from the bathroom. It was blood curdling enough (even for her) that we ran to her. She wails that their is a mouse in the garbage. Apparently, the mouse that Craig has been stalking for weeks emerged from the walls to explore the garbage can (it has probably found vegies there before) and got lucky enough to encounter Capriel’s guilty mouth as it prepared to spit out a mouthful of vegies.

After the original surprise of Capriel’s drama Craig excitedly rushed to the bathroom. He has used multiple methods over the past two weeks, none which have been successful. This was a sly mouse, capable of stealing peanut butter from a mouse trap without triggering the trap. So Craig took advantage of the poor mouse trapped in the garbage can and with great excitement and flair grabbed a towel and trapped the little guy. As he is doing this he is flanked by all the children offering their suggestions for what to do with the critter. Now, in order to understand this situation correctly and get the feel for the drama ensuing you must understand Craig’s background with rodents. He absolutely hates them. They give them the willies, they are all infested with a myriad of diseases, they scratch and keep him up at night, and they are surely all out to get him and destroy his home. So he was a man on a mission, a protector of his clan, adrenaline pumping as he stood their with his red hand towel prepared to capture the mouse, but also very prepared for the thing to leap from the can and jump down his shirt or something surprising like that. So imagine him fighting his inner “animal instincts” while also battling the loud and emotionally laden cries from his posterity. “Please, DON”T hurt him,” “Can we keep him for a pet, “ “can’t he live in my room.” “Don’t take him out into the wild.” “He’ll die.” At this point I was privileged to witness an incredible transformation from brutal revenge to tender parent. This “natural man” who was preparing to violently terminate this mouses life and deposit him roughly in the garbage can upon hearing the angelic voices of his whining children reluctantly but gently wrapped the vicious mouse in a towel, tromped through the snow in his work shoes with the wriggling thing between his hands all the way to the back where he entered the field and emancipated the disadvantaged mouse. I couldn’t be prouder of this wonderful man who found the perfect balance that night between justice and mercy, adults and children. I hope to never forget him walking in from the cold wet night, feeling that he had done right by all. I hope the humor of the situation is something I can always find in this crazy place called home where somehow we all coexist.

The children almost completely unaware of the personal sacrifice that had just occurred streamed past him, bundled up, and heading for the field to “make a home for the poor mouse.” But I noticed, and I loved him even more after that night.