Sparkling Escapades Abroad with the Fairy Bra Mother

Tonight I wandered into my spare room—you know, the one where I keep fabric on hangers, bras in suitcases, a few extra groceries… all the “Sonya storage solutions.” I was just looking for a hanger. A hanger, y’all.

Imagine my surprise, shock, horror, and absolute disgust when a mouse darted across the top of my hanging fabric like it owned the place.
We haven’t seen any signs of mice this year, so I just about levitated. I shuddered so hard I think my soul left my body for a moment. 😳

And instantly—I mean instantly—I was reminded of my Grandpa Haynes.
Because the only person who hates mice more than I do is… my mom.

Picture this: I’m traveling with Mom, Grandpa, and Grandma to a wedding in Kansas. I was about 16, feeling very grown-up and excited because it was my first time attending a big wedding in a strange congregation with the youth group.

We stopped for lunch at a little mom-and-pop restaurant. Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly sparkling clean. We were sitting there trying to convince ourselves we could still eat when Grandpa got that familiar twinkle in his eye… and I just knew he was up to something.

We were across the table from Mom.
Grandpa ever-so-sneakily ran his toe up her leg.

Let me tell you… there was NO hesitation.
She screamed, shot straight up out of her chair, and launched herself into the middle of the table like a gymnast who’d trained her whole life for this moment. 🤣

Grandpa and I were about dying, laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe.
Mom? Not impressed.
Grandma, in her calm, soft way, just sighed and said,
“DALE.”

Grandpa managed a guilty look, but the rest of the day the two of us would break into peals of laughter every time we remembered it.

And tonight’s little mouse visitor?
Yep. Brought that whole scene right back like it happened yesterday.

I. DO. NOT. LIKE. MICE. 😤🫣