There's a Mouse About the House

My daughter had a run in with a rascally little varmint in her garage . . . opened a drawer in a storage unit, and a mouse ran out . . . She screamed. . . . Isn't that what you would do?

Her three year old son, running to her aid, "Mommy! You went Aaaaahhhh!"

Mommy answers, "It's okay, Honey. I saw a mouse!"

Three Year Old, " Was it a mean mouse?" {Because, certainly it had to be a mean mouse or Mommy wouldn't have gone, "Aaaaahhhh!"}

"No Honey. It wasn't a mean mouse."

So he holds his hands apart in large measure to demonstrate how giant this monster mouse must have been. "Was it a big mouse?" {Because, certainly Mommy wouldn't have gone, "Aaaaahhh!" for a tiny, cute, adorable, little furry mouse.}

"No, Honey. It was just a little mouse."

Ooh, the precious, sweet, innocent mind of a three year old. How scary to know that there are giant mean mouses jumping out at people in the garage. I don't know how they're gonna fix this one. Surely they don't want him to know what happens next.