Rats

Okay, so Jubee has this new, odd obsession with stuffed rats.  She calls them "mouseys," and loves them. Her Grandma Debbie bought her these when we were at the Ikea in Utah last month:

That grey one especially really creeps me out.  I often see it laying on the floor and freak out momentarily.  Hey, it really does look like a real rat from across the room, with my glasses off.

I think that Jubee is using her plastic knight with horse and cart to reenact the spread of the Bubonic Plague across Europe in the 14th Century.  

Yesterday, the kids and I took my sister Ruth to Ikea in Denver.  Ruth, 14, said, "we are going to drive two and a half hours to go to a home furnishing store with meatballs?"  Oh, to be young and naive again, to experience that first Ikea visit with fresh eyes.

So, back to the story, Jubee found this pair of "mommy and baby" rats within minutes, and dragged them around the whole store for the 3 hours we were there.

She has this funny thing she does when she is playing mommy and baby.  The baby says to the mommy, "Momma!  Momma!  Momma!" repeatedly in a squeaky voice, until the mommy finally responds irritably: "what!?"  I think she got that from a tv show, it definitely never happens here.

Anyway, so she dragged mommy and baby rat through Ikea.  By the time we were about to check out, they were filthy and she seemed to have lost interest, so we decided not to buy them after all.  It wasn't a big deal until we finally got home, and she tore through the car, checking under all the seats, crying, "Mouseys!?  Mouseys, where are you?"  She's still looking for them off and on here in the house.

Speaking of rats, Cam came downstairs after cleaning up after work two nights ago looking like this:

He'd shaved the sides of his beard off, so now he looks like Guy of Gisborne crossed with Egon Spengler:

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I'm not going to tell you what I think about that.