I Need My Mouse!

Read the story before you peek ahead to the pictures!

The other night, I was putting Malcolm to bed, and we did all the usual. We brushed his teeth, put on his jammies, read some stories, laid out the blanket from Grammy. . . you know, the usual. But when it came time to say good night, Malcolm suddenly looked up at me with

this panic-stricken look, and gasped, "Mommy, I need my mouse!"

"Do you mean your dog?" I asked, pointing to his stuffed dog, Elly Bean, tucked neatly beside

him in bed.

"No, no, no. Not that. My mouse!"

I mentally searched through the list of new toys he received for his birthday . . . no mouse. I searched my memory for any mouse toy of any kind . . . . Ah! Got it!

"Do you mean Nova's dog toy? The little grey mouse ball?"

"No, no, no. Not that. My mouse!"

Having exhausted everything I could think of, I went for a simpler solution. "Okay, Malcolm.

Go get it. Then come right back to bed." Off he ran to the living room, and I could hear him digging through his toy box. With a cry of triumph, he came running back into the bed room, holding up a blue lego with a look of great delight. "My mouse, Mommy!" he told me,

presenting his prize.

Hunh. Okay, why not? So I took the lego, and proceeded to make it crawl across his bed,

squeaking and searching for cheese.

Malcolm looked at me, giggling, and shook his head. "No, no, no, Mommy. Not that."

Then he climbed up into bed, pulling his largest story book into his lap, and twisting it sideways. He then held out his hand for the lego, and began to slide it back and forth along the book, saying "Click! Click! Click!"

And every night since, bedtime is incomplete without his "mouse" and "laptop."