Not So Brave

So long story short, er...as short as I can make it. I am driving down the road and a mouse comes up from the hood, looks at me through the windshield and retreats back under the hood. I, imagining he is going to come in through the gas pedal and crawl over my sandalled foot, pull over and jump out. My mother, who is following me in her car, pulls over.

The mouse pops back out in time for her to see it. Plan 1: make noises inside the car to scare it out...we hit the dashboard. Plan 2: open the hood. We can't figure out how because we both are basically too scared to stick our hands under the popped hood to find the latch. Plan 3. Lure him out with a spoonful of yogurt ( my breakfast while driving that morning). Plan 4: turn the car back on. That works!

The mouse leaps from the car near our feet. I run, screaming like a maniac. Mom reaches through the window and just keeps honking my horn to scare it, yelling "get back in the car and drive, now" over and over. During which time, the mouse is residing directly between her feet, unbeknownst to her. I am physically unable to speak, freaked out the mouse is going to crawl over her sandalled foot, and I just keep pointing, she keeps honking and yelling (my 4 year old is strapped in his seat yelling, "I want to see the mouse, why cant I see the mouse, I never get to see anything"...over and over).

The mouse, to escape the chaos, runs up the back tire into the rear of the car. I am now close to being late to pick my daughter up at camp. So, I hop in and drive down the road weaving, like I am trying to throw Bruce Willis from the hood of my car (this is twice in this blog I have aged myself by pretending Bruce Willis is still an action star) and then drive on the center line bumps trying to shake him out.

Long story short, don't know where the mouse is and now I have yogurt streaks across my window. Yep, forgot about the yogurt and turned on the windshield wipers. Ironically, we were returning home after seeing Brave.