It was a better morning... for us.

We're in the middle of our frantic morning car-load routine when I hear, "MOMMY, THERE'S A MOUSE IN THE TRAP! WE GOT ANOTHER MOUSE!" EWWWW. Crap.

M: "WHY ARE HIS EYES STILL OPEN?"

He died suddenly.

A: "AWE. THAT'S SAD. BUT, CAN HE EVER MOVE AGAIN?"

No, sweetie.

M: "OH! LOOK, YOU CAN SEE HIS LITTLE TEETH AND TONGUE."

A: "AWE. HE'S SO CUTE. POOR MOUSEY."

Max starts examining the death scene.... "OKAY. SO. HE PROBABLY WAS RUNNING FROM THIS DIRECTION WHEN..."

Come on, guys. We're late. Get in the car!!!!

"AREN'T YOU GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THE MOUSE?"

No.

"WHY NOT?"

Because Daddy makes me save the traps. Which means that I have to scrape the damn thing off of the trap. Fuck that. I'm not doing that.
We're really late.
We have to go.
Daddy does that.

"BUT DADDY'S NOT HERE."
"YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE THE MOUSE THERE!"

Okay. Fine. I'll take care of him.
I throw the whole mess in the trash.

"THAT'S NOT HOW DADDY DOES IT."

Right. Well, I was just going to let nature take care of things so I didn't have to do any extracting or scraping; but you didn't like that idea. Daddy's not here.