Anyhow, this boy knows a LOT about animals and we all tend to believe anything that he says about them.
So last night was a sleepy evening and we were doing our last wind downs to bed. I was pottering away in our study, and The Husband was maybe 3 steps closer to the kitchen than I was (important point - you'll see why soon), when there was an almighty shout from Smith (who'd got up from bed to get himself a drink of water).
Once that word registered I screamed to The Husband to "Go help SMITH"!!! Everyone had come running now. Apart from me who was listening in the study for updates. "Where did you see it mate?", "Where did it run to?" "Are you sure?" I came through and trembled as I quietly asked "how big was it Mate?".
Our hearts chilled when he held out his hands, not a teeny mouse sized space apart, but a decent foot (or two) apart. It got worse.
"And it had a pink tale".
Chaos reigned as we screamed and the males in the house went running for cricket bats and brooms. But with no joy. The very-large-mouse-with-a-pink-take-thats-not-a-rat is still loose in our house somewhere.
And it gets even worse. The Husband is away this weekend. His role in our house has and will always be Vermin and Teeth Extraction - I go near neither.
I said to my 12 year old "You're going to be the man in the house this weekend buddy, vermin extraction is a "Man's Job" in this family. Then looked at my 9 year old son, "and if he's not here, then it's all up to you mate".
There are times that it's good to have 3 sons. If only they were not as whimpy as me.