And with a bleeding heart for a son, and Ratatouille easily in the top 5 movies we'd take with us if ever there were a fire in our kitchen, deciding the best method (read: least amount of tolerable guilt for Mama) for ridding ourselves of our unwelcomed guests was not going to be easy.
But the rainy season has, evidently, descended upon our tiny hamlet. And with that, spiders and rodents seeking warm and dry shelter. Spiders, we're used to. Spiders, I love. Rats, eh...not so much.
And, you know, I think I probably wouldn't have such a problem with them if they were just a little more, I don't know, like their not-so-vile cousins, the squirrels, who come around the house when they're looking for something to eat, yes, but don't ever get too close, are usually content with birdfeeder leftovers, and don't ever actually stay. AND they don't leave seemingly endless trails of their excrement behind. AND they don't scurry through the walls, beneath the house, and nosy around in our attic and garage. In the middle of the night. Once all the lights have gone out. When I'm just on the verge of falling asleep, and then am cursed with the creepy crawlies ALL NIGHT LONG.
That's. Just. So. Not. Cool.
So, because they're rude, they must die.
Having made that (surprisingly easy) unilateral decision, however, I now needed to convince everyone else in the house that there was really no other option.
Saia is our very logical child. Rats are unsanitary, I said. Rats carry disease, I said. Rats will walk all over the floors that you walk on barefoot and lay down on to read...and all over the counters and tables where you do your homework and eat your food...and...all over...your...bed, I said. And that was it. She was in.
So...naturally, none of the rational, logical arguments worked. Made-up theories and horror stories of mutant vampire-fanged creatures didn't work. Boldfaced lies didn't work. And I'm certain I even threw in a because-I-said-so or two that clearly didn't work.
But, eventually, he gave in, ONLY on the condition that he be allowed to warn the intruders of their impending demise (click on the letter to the right to enlarge). And that I give them a full 24-hour period to flee of their own little ratty free will before the extermination begins.
We pinky-shook, and it was a done deal. Let the countdown begin.