Wild Kingdom, With Hillbilly Mom's Mom

My mom is at it again, pushing her slaw agenda.

I might have mentioned how The Pony and I dropped by Mom's house two afternoons this week, to bide our time until award ceremonies. Ever the hostess with the mostess slaw, Mom had refreshments ready when we arrived. The Pony is not a slaw aficionado, so Mom baked a pan of brownies for him. Then she heated up a flatbread cheese pizza. The Pony was in hog heaven.

Mom had warmed two chicken strips for me in her toaster oven. Where they found such large chickens to harvest strips the length of a 44 oz. Diet Coke refill cup I'll never know. As we entered the house, The Pony took off downstairs to the family room to set up his gaming computer. Mom walked me over to the counter to show off her provisions. The chicken warmed itself on the toaster oven tray. Beside the toaster oven sat a bag of potato rolls. And just in front of them was parked the pint of slaw. "Do you want some slaw? I set it out for you."

"No thanks, Mom. I'll just have the chicken. No rolls."

"Oh, do you want a Coke? I have a can. I can pour it over ice if you want."

"That's okay. I'll drink it out of the can."

"Here. Let me help you carry it downstairs to the table."

"I can get it. I'm fine."

Mom cut up The Pony's flatbread and carried it down to him with a plate of brownies, a can of Sprite under her arm. She spoils us. But not so much that she left her slaw on the counter. It was stowed away right after I declined to dine on it. She carried a TV tray over to set beside The Pony's short-couch encampment. She put the TV on Jeopardy, and sat down across the table from me. Where she proceeded to talk all through Jeopardy. That's okay. She's my mom. She can get away with things Farmer H would never dream of doing. However...I must draw the line.

As I was chomping on chicken, Mom pushed something across the table toward me. It hit the edge of my paper plate, in fact. It was TWO MOUSETRAPS!

"Um...I try not to be any trouble, but is it too much to ask that I finish my chicken without mousetraps in my food?"

"Oh, they're clean! They're new. I can't figure out how to use them. Look. You're supposed to put the bait on there, then put this bar under it. And I can't see how to get that bar to stay."

"Do you have a mouse?"

"I think so."

"Let me finish eating, then I'll look at it. But remember, my glasses are out in the car."

"I'm not using these mousetraps. I have some better ones. But I need to know how to use them, in case I need them." I had visions of the scene in Ratatouille where the old lady shoots a shotgun at the chandelier, and her whole ceiling caves in, dropping thousands of rats out of the attic.

"I thought you had those traps like a roach motel. The mice crawl in and get their feet stuck, and you throw the whole box away."

"No. These are new. You just put peanut butter on a little section, flip the bar over, and it snaps on them as soon as they touch the peanut butter."

"Well, you don't put this bar under the bait. It goes right there on top, in the little upright section."

"Oh, I can't get it to stay. I'll just use my other ones."

"So somebody finally built a better mousetrap, huh?"

"They are SO easy. I'm going to set them out tonight. I'll get you some next time I go to the store."

"That's okay, Mom. We probably won't get a mouse until fall. They come in under the basement door when it gets cold."

"And those lazy cats won't do anything to stop them!" The Pony has big ears.

FYI, Mom caught two mice Thursday night. She set up her traps along the cabinets under her stovetop. She knew she had a mouse because when she went to get her confectioners sugar, something had chewed on the bag. She is setting out her traps again tonight. We'll see what develops.

Thank the Gummi Mary nothing tried to chew into the slaw.