Katie threw the boom to me while she grabbed a mop from next to where she was standing.
“Damn it,” I said, chuckling.
“I tried to shoo it away,” Katie said. “But then, Lexie tripped and fell because it ran over her shoe.”
“It went crazy!!” Lexie said from the chair. “It just jumped onto my foot in the living room and then ran into the kitchen.”
“Okay, let’s just get it out of here,” I said, trying to hide my sheepish grin.
I opened the kitchen door to the back porch, and after a few minutes of silence and gentle shooing, the rat promptly took himself outside.
“Come on, honey,” Katie said to Lexie, offering her a hand as Lexie jumped down.
“I’ll get an exterminator to come over tomorrow and check out the property,” Katie told me, looking embarrassed. “But I’ll leave some mousetraps around later.”
I was still shaking the thought that Katie might have hurt my child. I should have known that she wouldn’t do anything to harm Lexie — she was “our” child, after all.
“I’m sorry,” Katie said, as if she could read my mind. “That was a bit of a scene to walk into.”
“It’s fine,” I replied, my initial anger evaporating. “I just… I’m sorry, Katie. I just jumped the gun and thought that you were attacking her.”
Katie shook her head and put her hand on my arm.
“I would never do that,” she said. “I think I was more afraid of it than she was.”
We stood in the disheveled living room, the aftermath of the skirmish evident.
“Come on,” Katie said. “Let’s have some tea before you go.”
