Last Thursday night was anything but restful. First my oldest could not go to sleep. She had creepy things on her mind, and she was upset that her American Girl doll desk had been broken in a moment of children running and screaming through the house that ended with two little girls hiding in her closet.
It matters not how or who broke the desk. It mattered to her that she had put it in a safe place because she is super careful with all of her stuff. It mattered to me that much to my consternation, I have somehow became the Koolaid house, and although I am the self proclaimed crankiest mom in the neighborhood, children continue to congregate at my house. It mattered to Studmuffin because he wanted to just sleep.
She knew I got the desk at a garage sale, and would never buy her anything of that genre otherwise as I find them ridiculously over priced, if extremely well made. So, she was laying in bed, mourning the loss of her desk and realized she had forgotten to share her despair with me. This realization resulted in her climbing in my bed to weep with me at 10:30 pm.
Studmuffin was not the picture of sympathy.
I ended up going and lying down with her for a few minutes in the hopes that she would calm down and sleep. My neighbor Rebel's teenage daughter was out in her yard with friends and someone let out a typical teenage shriek. Bookworm was certain someone was being murdered outside her window.
I was unable to sleep. She was wide awake. Eventually we both ended up parting ways and snuggling up in our own beds with a good book. I think I finally fell asleep around 1am.
At 4:30 I woke up to the realization that Studmuffin was still in bed with me, and he should have already left for work. I sat bold upright and turned to wake him up, only to discover that Studmuffin was a pillow that he had pushed against my back so that I would not miss him in bed. How sweet. But now I was wide awake. Again.
It was a while before I could doze back off. I felt as if I had barely drifted off when a blood curdling scream echoed through the house and Popcorn came thundering around the corner from her room to mine. She burst through the door.
"THERE IS A RAT IN MY BED!"
Gentle Reader, you may find this hard to comprehend, but my heart that was already pounding from the rude awakening nearly burst out of my chest at her frantic announcement.
"Is it alive?" I asked her as I jumped out of bed and headed to her room.
"I don't know. I think so."
Oh Gentle Reader, my brain was in over drive. I was thinking there was no way a rat was in the house, much less in her bed, but if it was I was going to totally freak out, and obviously Kelsey is completely useless keeping vermin out of the house.
I stepped in her room, and I saw this:
Understand, Gentle Reader that this little ball of fur was in her face at 5:30 in the morning when the sun is just starting to kiss the world good morning.
I stepped closer for a better look. I bravely snatched the rat out of the bed and carried to my room for Popcorn's perusal.
"Was this the rat you saw?"
She sheepishly affirmed that it was entirely possible that the ugliest Webkinz cat in the world may have resembled a rat in the early dawn light. Yes. The very cat I tried to discourage her from purchasing due to it's absolute ugliness, she happily purchased, declared a gorgeous himalayan and dubbed her "Duchess."
And of course there are no piles of "stuff" in her room in which a real rat could hide.
Nope. Not a single one.