Just say no to squirrels!

First, off, a little business: My friend Laura from the Kyle David Miller Foundation, a place very near and dear to my heart, is hosting a pretty awesome giveaway for a brand spanking new Britax Marathon in Cowmooflage! Click here to check it out...you will not regret it, for reals!

Also, you can still enter the giveaway I'm doing right here on this blog.

So, the squirrel.

The other morning before school I sent Ava and Jace out to the car to get buckled up while I rounded up Vivi and Seth. From the front door I used the keyless entry remote to open the sliding doors in the van and then I went to grab Evany's carseat.

About, oh, three seconds later, Ava ran up to the screen door, completely hysterical. I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying...high pitched screaming/wailing/freaking out was all I could get. Finally, she took a deep breath and hurled the following explanation at me:

"Theres a squirrel in the car and he jumped in when the door opened and squirels can chew your arm off with their sharp teeth and they're crazy and they could totally eat Seth just like that time we saw that squirrel eat a piece of pizza and it's never going to leave and we're going to be stuck without a van FOREVER!"

Jace was jumping around brandishing a palm frond wildly, repeating every word Ava said a few seconds after her. Loudly.

I sighed, sure that both kids had meant to say that a squirrel was ON the car, and I walked out to check it out as I admonished them both for overreacting.

Except that when I got out to the van I saw that there was, in fact, a squirrel perched precariously on Evany's carseat base.

I immediately screamed and set Evany's car seat down with a thud. She protested loudly, and Seth grabbed onto my legs and stared at the tiny creature who I was positive had rabies and just hadn't started foaming at the mouth yet.

I stood there for the ten longest seconds of my life, trying to decide what to do. Obviously we were not going to make it to school on time. We'd be late and I'd have to sign tardy slips and no one would believe me when I told them there was a squirrel in the car. They'd think I was a liar and that would change the way they thought of me for the rest of my life. But I couldn't bring myself to get close enough to the thing to shoo it out of the car...plus what if I did that and it ran under a seat or something? Then we'd be even more screwed.

So I stood there, alongside all four kids in a line, discussing our options...waking the neighbors, who might be more brave than me, going to get a broom to get the thing out of the car, scaring it away, making it a pet...in the end the best option seemed to be buying a new car and just letting the squirrel make itself at home. Just at that moment, the squirrel tilted it's head towards us, gave us a beady eyed glare, and scurried out of the van as quickly as he'd come.

Not five minutes had passed, but the kids and I all aged about ten years.

Seriously.

These squirrels around here are weird. Maybe they're mutants.