Hannah and I crept upstairs slowly and joined Brandon at the door to their bathroom. Sure enough, crouching in the corner was the devil himself. Ok, so it was a large flying squirrel, but it looked like the devil if you just glanced. He was sitting atop the counter (ew...) motionless, staring at us.
Like the protective, caring mother that I am, I made my 8 year old son reach in and close the door so that we could trap the little bastard. Surprisingly, Brandon did it without complaint. With the door closed and my heart beating irregularly, I called my old friend, Mr. Pest Man.
Turns out Mr. Pest Man no longer worked for said Pest Company that had my children's college fund, so he couldn't help me. Said Pest Company was closed, because of course, it was Sunday. Animal Control laughed at me and then told me that my best bet would be to "lure him out of the house with an unobstructed path and some food."
After calling my husband and cursing him for not being here to take care of this, and having him stifle a laugh himself, the kids and I geared up for battle. We closed all the doors upstairs, opened the front door, and blockaded any other exit that the devil could take. We moved furniture and stretched out blankets so that the only possible way he could go would be outside. Then I put on my squirrel armor. Wearing rubber gloves and large boots while carrying a broom and a toilet plunger, I boldly told my son, "Go open the door." I felt slightly bad for perpetuation the male stereotype of rescuing the damsel in distress, especially considering that I should be protecting him like a mama bear, but then I got over it.
Brandon bravely crept up the stairs, threw open the door, then flung himself back down the stairs and over the barricade to join his huddling mother and sister. We waited. And waited. Nothing. Nada. Zip.
For close to an hour, I sat there watching the stairs for the devil to leave my house, and for close to an hour, he didn't. Hannah lost interest in the whole thing and went to the basement to read. Brandon played outside until I made him go check the bathroom to see what was going on.
He was gone for a few moments longer than I expected and then he came back down with a perplexed look on his face. He asked me, "Mom? Did you leave your bedroom door open? 'Cause it's wide open now and I hear something in your bathroom."