Die Fledermaus

Yes, the bat. One little bat (nearly batted around by the Terrible Two) made our early morning just a little more exciting.

He was a tiny thing, but had a big presence. I heard a high, metallic sounding chitter right after the garbage truck woke us. Told DH it was a bat, he insisted it wasn't; I insisted back that it was; I've had my premises invaded one other time.

When I heard Than Chai growling, I insisted that DH go and look.

They had the little creature cowering inside one of the radiators (old-fashioned things, ca. 1900). It was so dark we had trouble deciding if he was a bat or Lord-knows-what.

Eventually DH shooed him out an open window (in the process, all of my sewing things and about half of my knitting notions hit the deck), and we were bat free.

The boys, incarcerated in our bedroom, did not look on this as an improvement. After parole, they both told me earnestly that they'd really seen a flying mouse, and where was it now?

Twice in a lifetime is enough.