The Unexpected School Drop-Off Guest
You know that feeling when you finally get everyone out the door in the morning—lunches packed, shoes found (both of them!), and your sanity mostly intact? That sense of victory lasted exactly five minutes for me this week. Why? Because apparently, we’ve started giving unexpected rides… to mice.
Living in the country, we’re no strangers to mice sneaking into places they shouldn’t. However, they’ve recently taken a liking to our car. The first time it happened, my son shouted, “Look, Mom! A mouse just ran out from under the car!” We laughed, picturing it signing up for art class. I imagined the little mouse sitting at a desk, carefully labeling his crayon box and trading cheese sticks at lunch.
Then, I started imagining the mouse holding onto the underside of my car like Tom Cruise in Mission: Impossible, fur whipping in the wind, determined to make it to its top-secret mission (or maybe just the school cafeteria). It’s like he’s on a cheese-recovery mission, swinging in slow motion and narrowly avoiding imaginary laser beams.
The second time was truly something else. As I was driving my son to school up our narrow, one-lane private road, I had to squeeze past a landscaper’s truck and the bushes. While maneuvering, the mouse ran over my foot on the brake pedal! I screamed like I was auditioning for a horror movie, my son laughing and yelling, “Mom! Focus on the road!” Grossed out, I kept going, complaining to him the entire way. Once we finally arrived at school, that’s when the mouse leapt from the car in the drop-off line. I glanced around, scanning everyone’s faces, trying to determine if they saw it jump from my car. I think I was safe… probably.
The teachers’ faces were priceless—wide-eyed, half horrified, half fascinated—as the mouse sprinted away like it was late for a pop quiz. Meanwhile, I floored it out of there, hoping no one would connect the mouse to me. I imagined them gossiping later: “Did you see that mouse? It must have been a new student!”
Later, at my favorite coffee stand, her kids yelled, “Mouse! Mouse!” I knew. When I got to the window, I said, “Well, I’m here. Apparently, they need coffee now, too.” She laughed, “Great. Now they’re under my car!” We both laughed so hard I nearly spilled my latte. I pictured the mouse placing an order for a double espresso to keep up with his busy social schedule.
After these events, I started to wonder: Was I accidentally running an Uber service for mice? Should I install tiny seatbelts? Maybe a snack tray with miniature cheddar cubes? I imagined a whole fleet of country mice forming a line at my driveway, waiting for the morning shuttle to town. Perhaps they have a secret group chat where they coordinate pickups—”Hey Jerry, meet at 7:30 by the back tire. We’re hitting the school and the café today. Bring extra crumbs.”
Of course, my son thinks the whole situation is the best thing ever. He loves telling his friends that we have a “school mouse” that likes to tag along. At first, I thought he’d be embarrassed, but no—he’s taken to calling it our “class pet,” even though it’s not exactly invited. He even suggested naming it. The current contenders? Mr. Whiskers, Speedy, and (my personal favorite) Cheese Cruise.
Every day since, I do a thorough “mouse check” before leaving. I stomp around the car, honk the horn, and tap the hood, all while looking like I’m performing some bizarre country dance. My neighbors probably think I’m rehearsing for a TikTok trend. Meanwhile, I imagine the mice watching from the bushes with tiny binoculars, waiting for their moment to leap aboard.
It’s also made me rethink my entire relationship with my car. I used to think of it as a trusty family vehicle—now I realize it’s more like a wildlife tour bus. Maybe I should start charging admission: “See the majestic field mice in their natural commuting habitat!”
Sometimes I catch myself worrying about what the teachers think. Do they assume I have a full-blown rodent infestation at home? Are they making mental notes to avoid standing too close to me at parent-teacher night? Or are they secretly rooting for the mouse, hoping he makes it to his imaginary algebra test on time?
Through it all, there’s one undeniable truth: Life in the country is never boring. While city parents worry about traffic jams and latte foam art, we’re over here dodging rodents and turning school drop-offs into live-action cartoons.
So, next time you’re stuck in the morning rush, imagine me barreling down a one-lane road, shrieking about a mouse on my foot, while a tiny action hero clings to my car’s undercarriage. Picture me in the drop-off line, scanning faces for judgment as my furry hitchhiker makes a daring escape. And if you hear someone cackling at a coffee stand about a mouse demanding espresso shots—that’s probably me.
Moral of the story? Check under your car. Pack a tiny backpack. And most importantly, embrace the chaos. You never know when your morning routine might turn into the next great country mouse adventure.