Is that a mouse in the house? I'm seriously a pushover.

A few years ago I received a report from my wife about a statement my oldest daughter (7 or 8 years old at the time) made to a friend while being chauffeured to some activity.

"I'll just ask my dad to do it," my daughter had offered her friend, "I can get him to do anything."

I was determined to be must less accommodating at that point. I've realized however that she must be right. I wish my inability to say no was limited to my relationship with just one of my children. Alas, the fact that I've got a mouse in my house is proof that I am weak, weak, weak! And my weakness may just end up costing me my health.

Seriously, don't these kids realize how many germs rodents can carry? Wasn't it a mouse that brought down the Roman Empire with disease? I'm pretty sure it was a rodent that brought disease and depravity to the new world, wasn't it?

I have to admit that watching the determination of my kids to get the mouse home (they had to write a one-page essay on why they should be allowed and how they would care for the little thing) and their ingenuity when they realized a standard hamster wheel wasn't going to give Lulu the exercise a healthy mouse needs.

Now, let's just hope the little beast doesn't get out unattended. I can't imagine the sadness we'll have when Lulu no longer make the Shasta bottle buzz across the floor.