Cinderella and Kayla at the same time.
“Squinx,” says my brother gleefully, which I’m assuming is mouse for jinx.
We all scurry to the door. Um. Small problem. We are way too short to reach the handle. Now what?
“Squeak,” Jonah says again, and proceeds to try to squeeze himself under the door. Oh, no. What if he gets stuck? But he doesn’t. He goes right under. Mice are very squirmy.
I squeeze through to the other side, too. Cinderella goes next. Then Kayla. Then Farrah. I guess rats and lizards are squirmy, too.
We made it! They all follow me as I scamper down the stairs and into the living room.
Betty is standing by the couch, her arms behind her back holding the glass slipper that Farrah fixed. Beatrice is sticking her foot out as the prince’s assistant crouches in front of her with the other glass slipper.
And the prince. I did not expect him to be here, too, but the prince is sitting on the love seat looking regal and princely in his very purple robe.
“Squeak!!!!” cries the Kayla rat.
“Thank you so much for the tea,” the prince says. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“I’m sure everyone is showering you with treats,” says Betty.
The assistant nods. “The last house we were at had these amazing little cake things. They’re called crownies, I’m told.Cinderella’s Crownies. They bought them at the market. Have you ever had one?”
“They’re quite delicious,” the prince says.
Betty grunts. “I’ve heard they make a lot of crumbs.”
Cinderella squeaks.
Wait a sec. The assistant looks familiar. He’s skinny and he has a goatee. It’s the guy from the coat check! I guess he got promoted. Way to go!
“Time to do the shoe thing,” the goatee guy says. He lifts the glass slipper to Beatrice’s left foot.
Please don’t fit, please don’t fit, please don’t fit.
It fits.
Crumbs is definitely right.
P rince Jordan,” goatee guy says, “say hello to your bride.”
No, no, no! We have to do something to stop this!
Beatrice slides the right slipper onto her foot and does a little victory dance with her shoulders.
Prince Jordan smiles as he approaches her. “Hello, um — who are you again?”
Beatrice curtsies and then straightens up. “Beatrice.”
“You’re much taller than I remember,” he says, sounding perplexed.
“It’s your imagination,” Betty says. She’s stuck the wandbehind her ear like a pencil. Is that any way to treat a wand? No, it is not.
Kayla-rat scurries up the couch, jumps on her sister’s shoulder and tries to bite her.
“Mom, we really need to get an exterminator in here,” Beatrice says tossing her sister to the ground.
And we need to steal back the wand. I scurry across the room and assess the situation. A couch, a love seat, a fireplace, a chandelier, and a grandfather clock. I need to get at Betty from above if I want to snatch the wand. If I can somehow make it to the chandelier, maybe I can jump on her head? But how will I get to the chandelier? I’m pretty sure mice can’t fly.
Still, if fairy tales have taught me anything, they can run up a clock. Like in “Hickory Dickory Dock”!
Okay, so technically that’s a nursery rhyme, but it’s still worth a shot.
I can do this. I scurry over to the ledge at the bottom of the clock and dig right in. This is easier than I thought. I use my itty-bitty nails to claw and climb to the top in just a matter of seconds. Ha! And they say time flies.
Except here I am, perched on top of the clock. Now what?
The chandelier is too far away for me to make the jump. What I really need is for Betty to take a few steps backward. Come on, Betty, move it!
Jonah looks up and sees me. “Squeak?” he asks, which I interpret to mean, What are you doing up there?
I’d squeak right back at him, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Instead, I try to use my little mouse-hands, pantomime style, to tell him what to do.
So far I haven’t been successful with any of my hand
“Squinx,” says my brother gleefully, which I’m assuming is mouse for jinx.
We all scurry to the door. Um. Small problem. We are way too short to reach the handle. Now what?
“Squeak,” Jonah says again, and proceeds to try to squeeze himself under the door. Oh, no. What if he gets stuck? But he doesn’t. He goes right under. Mice are very squirmy.
I squeeze through to the other side, too. Cinderella goes next. Then Kayla. Then Farrah. I guess rats and lizards are squirmy, too.
We made it! They all follow me as I scamper down the stairs and into the living room.
Betty is standing by the couch, her arms behind her back holding the glass slipper that Farrah fixed. Beatrice is sticking her foot out as the prince’s assistant crouches in front of her with the other glass slipper.
And the prince. I did not expect him to be here, too, but the prince is sitting on the love seat looking regal and princely in his very purple robe.
“Squeak!!!!” cries the Kayla rat.
“Thank you so much for the tea,” the prince says. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“I’m sure everyone is showering you with treats,” says Betty.
The assistant nods. “The last house we were at had these amazing little cake things. They’re called crownies, I’m told.Cinderella’s Crownies. They bought them at the market. Have you ever had one?”
“They’re quite delicious,” the prince says.
Betty grunts. “I’ve heard they make a lot of crumbs.”
Cinderella squeaks.
Wait a sec. The assistant looks familiar. He’s skinny and he has a goatee. It’s the guy from the coat check! I guess he got promoted. Way to go!
“Time to do the shoe thing,” the goatee guy says. He lifts the glass slipper to Beatrice’s left foot.
Please don’t fit, please don’t fit, please don’t fit.
It fits.
Crumbs is definitely right.
P rince Jordan,” goatee guy says, “say hello to your bride.”
No, no, no! We have to do something to stop this!
Beatrice slides the right slipper onto her foot and does a little victory dance with her shoulders.
Prince Jordan smiles as he approaches her. “Hello, um — who are you again?”
Beatrice curtsies and then straightens up. “Beatrice.”
“You’re much taller than I remember,” he says, sounding perplexed.
“It’s your imagination,” Betty says. She’s stuck the wandbehind her ear like a pencil. Is that any way to treat a wand? No, it is not.
Kayla-rat scurries up the couch, jumps on her sister’s shoulder and tries to bite her.
“Mom, we really need to get an exterminator in here,” Beatrice says tossing her sister to the ground.
And we need to steal back the wand. I scurry across the room and assess the situation. A couch, a love seat, a fireplace, a chandelier, and a grandfather clock. I need to get at Betty from above if I want to snatch the wand. If I can somehow make it to the chandelier, maybe I can jump on her head? But how will I get to the chandelier? I’m pretty sure mice can’t fly.
Still, if fairy tales have taught me anything, they can run up a clock. Like in “Hickory Dickory Dock”!
Okay, so technically that’s a nursery rhyme, but it’s still worth a shot.
I can do this. I scurry over to the ledge at the bottom of the clock and dig right in. This is easier than I thought. I use my itty-bitty nails to claw and climb to the top in just a matter of seconds. Ha! And they say time flies.
Except here I am, perched on top of the clock. Now what?
The chandelier is too far away for me to make the jump. What I really need is for Betty to take a few steps backward. Come on, Betty, move it!
Jonah looks up and sees me. “Squeak?” he asks, which I interpret to mean, What are you doing up there?
I’d squeak right back at him, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. Instead, I try to use my little mouse-hands, pantomime style, to tell him what to do.
So far I haven’t been successful with any of my hand
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