The kids got mice for Christmas. They asked for pet mice a long time ago, and I promised them they could have them if they did their chores without whining until Christmas. These are the kinds of promises you make when you feel guilty for moving your children from a neighborhood/state/everyone/everything they loved to a place they don't love as much.
They loved those mice. I even liked them for a little while, until I found out how much they smell.
On Monday, Anne and Claire were playing with them unsupervised. I feel kinda bad about that now. To avoid getting too gruesome Anne committed first degree mouseslaughter. I felt bad, Anne felt bad, Damon felt worse, Claire was philosophical, and now Peep is buried in the best little cardboard box we had (thank you, Marcus, for the box Jake's Christmas gift was put in) in the backyard. We've prayed for her soul numerous times this week, that she'll be happy in heaven and that she'll forgive us for letting her die. Damon says we cannot move from this house unless we take Peep's remains with us. So, I guess he's reconciled to moving here.
One down, two to go.
2 comments:
Poor Peep, your kids have such sensitive souls and I love them for it. You can reassure Damon that Peep lived a much longer life than had he been gifted to Zannah.
Ha! I'm not sure if I should laugh or be sad. Well, RIP, Peep. I'll tell you this, I can't leave Ayda with Bruiser unsupervised these days either!
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