With all the snow and ice we've had this year we finally received some unwanted guests. They were very quiet and I probably never would have known they were there except for the telltale evidence left in the kitchen every morning.

The potted plants in the corners by the windows were dug up and dirt was everywhere. Crumbs had been collected from under the Little Guy's chair (and other places, unfortunately) and hoarded in one cabinet. And there were tiny little droppings left all over the counters, on the stove, in the sink, and many other places. I could forgive these indiscretions, however.

But the unforgivable act was defiling my frying pan, the one I use to cook breakfast every morning. That was beyond measure! (Yes, I noticed before I ate anything but unfortunately after I started cooking!)

Retribution was swift, I can assure you. Oh yes! Swift and sure!

Melissa noticed our first guest a few nights ago. We had just put the kids to bed when she went to the kitchen and I to the computer.

"James, Come here! There's a mouse!"

At least that's what she claims to have said. What I heard was "Abubblee aboo-boo!" Or something similar.

We had a conversation like this a few years ago while driving home after dark in Vermont. Coming around a bend in the road I was distracted by one of the children in the back seat and took my eyes off the road. From the passenger side Melissa saw the deer standing in the road and called my attention to it by pointing wildly and shouting:

"Abubblee aboo-boo!" Or something similar.

Back then I had enough time to turn back to the road, assess the situation - that is, interpret my wife's utterance as a warning of a deer in the road, and apply the brakes long before coming close to the animal. We still laugh over this episode and so it was only natural for me to remember this when I heard her call from the kitchen. I could hear the alarm in her voice but with the noise from the computer fans and simply being in a different room I could not get the specific words.

If you gather from this account that my wife is easily flustered then you are mistaken. She is an Aerospace Engineer by degree, knows more about football and car maintenance than I ever will, and leads our town's home school group. She's been to Haiti to build houses with Habitat for Humanity, survived riots in Germany, and has put up with me for fifteen years. In short, she knows how to handle herself.

Which only makes that moment of tongue-tied panic all the more amusing.

That first mouse we found that night I captured in a box and released in the field a short walk from our house. It was obviously too short a walk since two nights later our guest was back.

There shall be no return from where our guest now resides.

Now the question is: Are there any more?

But I can't help thinking about how the book Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH would be different if a few simple mouse traps had been used.