I have some weird phobias, and I readily admit it. I am terrified of Tatoo from Fantasy Island and have been since before I can remember. I am also scared to death of mice. However, my son loves mice. I am not sure if he likes them because he likes them or because he is fascinated with them because of my phobia. Either way, his fascination grosses me out, and I cannot get past it.
My fear of mice goes as far back as junior high when I ended up in a cabin at summer camp infested with them. The multiple boxes of mouse poisoning should have been the first clue that something was wrong. The first night was so horrible. It started shortly after lights out when someone complained that something ran across her arm. Then something ran across someone else’s legs. The circus continued through the night and ended with all of us huddled in just a few of the beds and exhausted. A few days later, one of the girls discovered a dead mouse in her bed. Not too long after that experience, I was cleaning the rabbit barn at my house and went to throw a box of straw on the strawberry patch when a whole family came out with it and ran across my feet. Ever since, I have had an immense fear of the small creatures.
Now jump forward to the present. I know we had a mouse in the house a few years ago, and it was caught within five minutes of the discovery, and the cupboard that it came through has been pretty much unused since. I haven’t seen any evidence of mice in the house, so I have tried to put it out of my mind.
Well, I had misplaced something, like I often do. It had been so long since I needed this particular item that after much searching, I thought that maybe I had put it in that cupboard. So I opened the cupboard, and I saw an overturned mouse trap, screamed, and promptly shut the cupboard. Later, I took my packing tape and taped the cupboard shut. Yes I know it seems like I went quite overboard, but I couldn’t help it. When my husband got home a few days later, I asked him to dispose of the mouse and set a new trap while I stayed about two rooms away. I could tell he thought I was being ridiculous especially when it turned out that the mouse was very dead as in it may have been there for a year, maybe longer.
Since the incident, my husband sprayed foam where he thought it may have come through and set another trap which I made him check the other day. My son, however, has been having a field day with teasing him mama about what he believes to be a silly little fear. He has chased me with toy mice, talked about how he wants pet mice, and just harasses me whenever he gets a chance.
I guess I should be glad that my fear has not transferred to him, but at the same time, I am a little miffed that he has no sympathy for me whatsoever. It wouldn’t surprise me to find a toy pest in my bed one of these days. I love him though, even if he is a little stinker, and I am glad that he can joke about it instead of being a scaredy cat like me!