I tell you, I feel as though a movie should be made about our morning-after-Thanksgiving-2010. And not because of Black Friday shopping - although that is a good entrance to my (slightly long) story...

Let me set the scene for you. It's 0730 and I had just gotten up with the kiddo's (L had been standing in her crib, jumping up and down, shouting in her "L" language, trying to wake me up...). My mom, dad and brother were just getting home from their Black Friday shopping experience (see, it really WAS the start of my story!). As I am coming up the stairs from the basement, I hear my mother start shrieking like a banshee, "A mouse. A MOUSE!! EEEEEEEE. Oh my GOSH! A MOUSE!! Help! Come quick. EEEEEEEEE". My reaction to this was to shake my head, say "Oh mom" to myself and continue on my merry way upstairs - not because we get mice a lot, but because I knew she was possibly over-reacting and that nothing could probably be done about it right at that very moment. I get upstairs and my mom is standing in the middle of the entry, having a near-panic attack, telling us that the mouse stuck it's head out at her and that it was white and HUGE. My brother and I have her sit down and we all begin to assess the situation.

None of us see anything - my dad gets down on the floor and begins shining a flashlight under the stove, which is where my mom said the creature appeared from. Because we don't see anything and think it's simply a mouse, we start going about our morning, keeping a slight eye around the kitchen. I feed Ezzy, then begin working on breakfast for L. As I am getting the eggs out of the fridge, I see a movement across from the stove, under the dishwasher. Ok, ok, so I may have freaked out. Not terribly bad, but I definitely danced away and made some noise :) The creature had stuck it's head out of a hole under the dishwasher and was peering out. Eek! THEN! It came out! It was NOT a mouse! It had a mouse-like head, but it's body was 2-3 times longer than a mouse - it was all white, but it had a black-tipped tail. It looked like a ferret. That was our first guess. OH! I forgot - at this point, I was on the phone with Maxwell. He had called as I was starting to get breakfast ready and I informed him of the situation, but we were talking about other things when the "ferret" appeared. I told him what it looked like and he starts giving me tips on how to catch it.

The little bugger goes in and out of the hole a few times and then we don't see it for a bit. I am wrapping up my phone conversation with Max, when I tell him what color it is - and he stops me in mid-sentence. "Kaylee, it's a weasel. You better kill that thing and make sure there are no more in the house." Oh, I says. We get off the phone and I tell my dad that we have a weasel in our kitchen. Oh. Yes. A weasel. You read that right. A weasel. Who in tarnation gets a weasel in their house?! Seriously, where is the manual for this kind of situation?!

So, we make a plan for catching that little weasel. We get out buckets to drop over him if/when he comes out. We set up live traps outside the holes. We get out little mouse traps and set meat in them. And then we wait. And wait. And wait. And then Max calls back (I know - 2 phone calls in one day?! I am a blessed woman!!! Sidenote: It was SO good to talk to him. I love that man!!!), because he'd been thinking about the weasel and had decided that maybe it was a mink. And then my dear husband asks me if, when we catch/kill it, I would skin it for him. AH! Me?! Skin a little weasel-mink thing?! AH! I informed him that I probably wouldn't be skinning that little rascal of an animal....

As I am on the phone with Max, the little weasel-mink pokes his head out again. And comes all the way out. And prances around a bit. And goes back in his hole. Then comes out the opposite hole, prances around, and goes back in. I am still on the phone with Max, while holding a large pole, in case the weasel-mink comes to me. My dad is at another location in the kitchen with a bucket and a large pole. And my brother is at a third location with a stick and a bucket. And we just kept waiting for it to come back out. At one point, the little weasel-mink came out and almost got caught in one of the mouse traps - it scared him pretty bad and he ran back into his hole. He did not present his little self for quite some time after this little scare.

I continue my conversation with Max, while watching the holes - we didn't want him to get out and then go somewhere else in our house!!! Max and I talk for awhile, then it's time to say goodbye. My dad had been calling pest control to get some ideas on what to do about a weasel in your house and decides we need to get a few more live traps to catch the thing. He has also decided that he is not going to live in bondage (his exact words) to this rodent and is going about his day (to which my mother responded that someone must guard the openings until the weasel came out!). I get nervous that if my dad leaves, I won't be brave enough to whack it or that it will run somewhere else in the house, so I offer to go out to store to pick up the traps. I get L up from her nap, then hop in the shower to clean up before leaving.

As I am turning the shower off, I hear some loud banging coming from upstairs, followed by shuffling and what sounds like, hopping around. Then I hear my mom start shrieking and yelling to get L. Next, I hear my dad hollering at the cat to do it's dang job and is also yelling frantically for help. I quickly grab a towel and start running upstairs to help and see what's happened. As I am heading up the stairs, my brother is right behind me and we hear L start bawling. We get upstairs and find my dad at the entrance to the dining room, broom in hand, looking like he is ready to smash that little weasel to pieces. L is standing in the living room, crying, because we are all running around and shouting. My mom is still sitting in the chair, holding Ezzy and shrieking. I run to get L. My brother runs to find a stick to stand guard at the other entrance to the dining room.

There is much shuffling and the weasel-mink runs along the wall, then makes a run straight to the middle of the room. Halfway there, my brother's stick comes down (sorry, if you are upset by this, we did what we had to do....) and...POP! goes the weasel.

I am still standing on the stairs, half-naked, dripping wet, holding my daughter. My mom is starting to cry in relief, holding Ezzy. My dad is still standing there with the broom, en guard, ready. And my brother, at the sight of a little bit of blood, hollers and heads back downstairs, as we cheer that he saved the day. Apparently, the weasel snuck out one of the holes, my dad saw him and they started this nice little game of chase - leading throughout the entire level of the house - including through L's toys and into the room where she was playing (hence my mom shouting to get L), ending finally, in the dining room.

I really feel that this morning should be made into a movie - from my mother's hyperventilating, to my standing, dripping wet, in a towel, to my dad going on about how he's not going to be in bondage to the weasel, to my brother's reaction at the blood. Although it was a chaotic, high-stress and high-adrenaline morning, the entire situation was also slightly bizarre (again, who in the world gets a weasel in their house?!) and pretty hysterical. This will not be a day easily forgotten, but instead, I think this story will be one shared for quite some time to come :)