This mom’s experience with a “dead mouse” will leave you laughing for days
Being a parent means you have to be the grownup when it comes to tackling the dirty, the yucky, and the terrifying. So when you find things like a mouse in your house, you’ve gotta do your best “suck it up, buttercup” and get on with it.
Which is exactly what Laura Mazza, the mom and blogger behind “Mum on the Run,” had to do when she encountered what appeared to be a creature of the mouse variety in her young son’s bedroom.
“Today I saw a mouse in my sons room,” she wrote on her Facebook page. “A mouse. Stewart Little has decided to come in my house and set up camp near my sons drawers.”
Logically, we all know that a dead mouse can’t hurt anyone. It’s just gross AF. But when presented with scenarios like this, logic and reason often fly out the window. Mazza said once she laid eyes on it, she completely froze.
“And it was the kinda freeze that you feel like you shouldn’t even breathe. Where your air escapes your lungs. I’m trying to find my pulse again when my daughter decided to strut into the room with her toddler swag and I screamed ‘no’! And it wasn’t just any no. It was the loudest ‘noooooooooooooooooooooo’ I’ve ever made in my life. So I shut the door and I leave little Jerry (Tom’s mate) to his own devices,” she writes.
Oh, the drama. She called her husband at work to alert him of the Mouse Crisis unfolding in their home. Since she can’t burn the entire house down as a solution, she was relying on him for tactical reinforcement.
“He answers the phone and I say ‘mouse’. I stutter because I’m fucking terrified. This is no Mickey Mouse okay. This is Ratatouille but smaller and he isn’t making some delicious soup, he’s gonna spray out pebble poo and make babies everywhere and in my sons ears and they’ll crawl in my mouth… mouse in my mouth!!!”
Honestly, same. That’s exactly where our minds would go too, with little ones in the house ready to touch anything and everything and put it in their mouths.
“Huh?” He says
“Mouse in house,” I say, still shaken “Cat in hat,” he replies. “No babe, there’s a mouse in Luca’s room! You need to come home NOW and take it outside!” “Oh Bub you just take it outside, or just kill it” “Kill it???”
“Cat in hat.” OMFG, we’re dying. When her husband told her she should “kill it” and be done with it, Mazza was completely put off and intimidated by the idea: “This face is scared that this mouse is going to radio the rescuers and call his other mice friends to come and have a pebble poo party orgy. NOT ON MY WATCH MOUSE. Not on my watch.”
Mazza — who is no stranger to hilarious experiences — took a deep breath, re-opened the door to her son’s room to take handle it as best she could, and noticed the “mouse” was in the exact same spot as before. Naturally, the assumed the rodent had perished and was ready to scoop it up and dispose of it (after a “couple swigs of whisky” as any true warrior would do).
“[Just before] I went charging in like a knight in shining armour with a piece of paper screaming like the warrior woman I am and charge up onto this dead mouse in my house and I realise…I realise it’s not a mouse. No, not a mouse at all.”
Oh, God. What was it? A rat? A mole? A hamster on the lam? Nope.
“It’s a tiny leopard…A tiny toy leopard. I nod to myself and say ‘we shall never tell a soul about this.'”
Nope. No one needs to know. Ever. Not when your ultimate bad-ass defining moment evaporates into thin air. Because, come on, she was going to handle it. She just…didn’t end up having to handle anything except her own humbling embarrassment.
“My husband got home 4 hours later and asked me how I went….I said ‘Mate, I handled that shit.'”
It may not be a mouse, but this little rat bastard made for one heck of a good story!