Kate usually pushes Flora’s buttons by humming or singing along to songs that we play in my car. I mean, it drives Flora around the bend. (I don’t notice Kate’s noise, but Flora’s whinging about it drives ME around the bend. Oy.)
On a recent trip to the library, they started in on each other, and to disrupt it, I said to Kate, “Tell us a story instead.”
Kate told her version of The Three Bears:
“Once upon a time, there were three bears who lived in the woods. One day they got up and decided to have porridge for breakfast. The papa bear took a bite and said, ‘This porridge is too hot! Patoie!’ The mama bear took a bite and said, ‘This porridge is too cold! Patoie!’ The baby bear said, ‘I’M DYING!'”
Maybe you had to hear her delivery, but Flora and I *broke up*.
We’ve had a periodic critter problem since we have moved into our house eight years ago. The mice find it nice and cozy in the wintertime.
Since demo’ing most of the basement, the activity on the main floor of the house has seen a significant upswing.
We don’t like it. We recently upgraded to snap traps from the glue traps we had been using. Somehow those fuckers have been able to get out of the glue traps.
Flora does not like the look of the snap traps. She finds it distressing to think of the mice dying like that.
Kate this morning blithely pointed out, “Yeah but Flora, those glue traps have caught your foot, Michael’s hand, and one mouse.”