A mouse in the house?

Do you ever have a situation you just don't want to confront? And you're not quite sure why?
Last week mine was about mice in my kitchen.
I've never looked the other way when I've suspected the critters have invaded, so why this time? And I still don't have an answer to that but what I can tell you is that the problem didn't become any easier to resolve after last Wed.

Leo and I were on our way to visit Martha and Lucia when he heard a squeak in my car. I told him, yes, there was a squeak and it was coming from my glove compartment, which did not close properly.
"It sounds like a mouse", he commented.
"Yes it does!", I replied.
When I confirmed that there really was NOT a mouse in my glove compartment, Leo went on to tell me, "No sir! Because mice live in holes" and then Leo took off as only Leo can.
He (and I, when I could interject a word or two) talked about mice in holes and barns and cats chasing mice but they went into their holes and they did NOT live in houses but barns and how cute those holes were and cats and dogs could be friends but mice and cats could NEVER be friends and on and on and on. I didn't say anything to him about mouse traps but he mentioned that mice liked cheese.

"And peanut butter!", I added.
"Mice like peanut butter?" "I like peanut butter too. I eat organic peanut butter!". And on and on he continued.

Then he was quiet again. For just a moment.
"Ma", he said, breaking the silence, "I have a song about mice and peanut butter". When I asked to hear the song he murmured, "Well, it's in my head now; I'm still singing it in my head".

Silence again followed...and my mind went to my kitchen counter where, for a few days, I was pretty sure I had seen evidence of mice. The evidence was around the toaster so it could have easily have been just toast crumbs. Once scraped away I saw nothing else during the day that would indicate we had mice feasting in our kitchen. Which was odd because, come cold weather, we always seem to have mice.

As I looked back at Leo composing his song in his head, his mouth now and then forming words, I wondered what he would think if he knew how we take care of mice who don't know enough to stay in their holes.

Deep, deep inside, I knew there was a mouse in the house. But I didn't want to think about that. Because listening to Leo talking about the cute mice, I determined that these little black things were, indeed, toast crumbs, rather than face the situation head on.

A few days passed when I pulled a pot cover out from the cupboard and it was FULL of mouse droppings. FULL. I almost gagged.

I'm not going to be the one to tell Leo what happens to mice when they take liberties out of their holes. Suffice to say that we are 8 and counting. We would probably have more, but one trap disappeared. Seems the critter took it with him...maybe back to his hole.