The Mouse

I've scarred my son for live in an effort to make him sleep in his own bed without taking food down with him. He's only three and has already created the smell and grotesqueness that is a boy's bedroom. He is constantly bringing crackers, fruit snacks and apples down there to nosh on while he is playing his game in the evenings. I keep telling him, "NO FOOD IN THE BEDROOM!". He keeps not listening. Shocking, yes, I know. I find these little morsels in the (what seems to be) weekly gutting of his room. Crumbs and spills, and even a half-eaten yogurt at times. I can't stop the boy, as hard as I try. I've looked for a fridge lock, but can't seem to find one. Apparently the general public looks down on withholding food from small children. Who would have thought?

At any rate, I told him that he can have his snacks, but they need to be eaten AT THE TABLE.

Zachary: Why?
Me: Because this is a mess!
Zachary: But why do I have to eat at the table?
Me: Because if you don't, a mouse will come into your room!
Zachary: I don't want that to happen!
Me: Then STOP brining food into your room or one will come in during the night and bite you! They will come to eat the crumbs!

Sometime in the next week he came up from his bed. He went to the pantry and grabbed a fruit snack. He quietly brought it to the dining room and sat on the floor. Tim comes in...

Tim: Zachary, what are you doing?
Zachary: I am eating my snack.
Tim: Why don't you take it downstairs with you?
Zachary: Because I don't want a mouse to bite me!

Tim was completely confused because he hadn't been informed about the conversation of said mouse. All he knew at this point was that Zachary was scared of bringing food in his room because of being bitten.

Zachary WILL NOT STAY IN BED. This has been an ongoing battle and we have yet to win. That same night, Zachary kept coming upstairs...repeatedly...and finally...

Tim: GET IN YOUR BED!
Zachary: But I don't want to!
Tim: If you don't get in your bed, I am going to bring food down there!

HA! I'm pretty sure that he'll forever have a fear of mice. In our defense, sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.