"Oh God! Ewww!" shrieked one kid.
"Get it!" yelled another.
"I can't! You do it! Oh god, gross! I'm going to hurl!" came the response.
I hurried around the kitchen island to see what was going on. There was a mole, a dead mole, mostly eviscerated, still with a face, yet quite slobbered on, being warmed in a sunny patch on the floor. Irie (our half grown Min-Pin) was pacing near her prize. She sensed that we were somewhat displeased with the discovery of the delicious rodent, yet seemed hesitant to leave it.
"Just pick it up and pitch it outside." I said in my Calm Mom voice.
"I can't! How? Ewww, NO. I can't!"
The room bordered on pure panic as it seemed this dead mole would stay inside forever, because no one had the guts to pick it up. Not with gloves, or a paper towel, or a plastic bag- the kids were just too squeamish.
Suddenly my son grabbed Irie and carried her over to the dead mole, and held her near it. Irie reached down and picked up the mole with her mouth. My son carried Irie (and thus the mole) over to the front door and pitched her out. Silence, as we appreciated the brilliance of his solution. The entire room filled with relief, then laughter and gratitude. A few minutes later, we let Irie (sans mole) back into the house. I do not know if she ate it, buried it, or simply abandoned it for the warmth of being inside.
I'd gone back to snack making, the dogs were back to napping in the sunny spots, and I realized for all the chaos, it was true- my life is pretty amazing.