Okay, so Friday night I took the folding chairs out of the garage. I opened one up to sit on it, and Oh. My. God.
Inside were four tiny newborn mice! (Maybe five... I didn't stick around long enough to get a good count)
I ran off screaming.
My kids stared in complete fascination. They tried to guess how old the mice were. A few days? A few hours? Their eyes were not even open yet.
We discussed what to do with the babies.
I was not about to go anywhere near the little guys, so we waited for David to come home and we agreed that he would fold the chair back up and put it exactly where we had found it.
Yup. Dumb and dumber here. We're supposed to get mice out of our homes, not bring them in.
But I was worried the mom wouldn't be able to find her babies to nurse them.
I may be a plant murderer. But I cannot have a whole family of mammals on my conscience.