As I crossed the dark dining room leading up to the kitchen, I heard a rustling noise. Yes, I know that houses settle at night. But they DON"T rustle. I'm so sure of that, I turn the kitchen light on, and immediately turn it off again. I. Caught. An. Animal. In. My. Kitchen.
I shut the kitchen door to keep our friendly critter - perhaps a raccoon? possibly a possum?- corralled. Then I run to the bedroom and wake Daddy up. This is no time to let him get his beauty sleep. It is also no time for the snooze button, no sirree. Up and at 'em!
The bleary eyed hero and I, now armed with a broom, (want to sample our hospitality, don't you?) head for the last known address of Mr. Furry. Daddy insists he sees nothing, and I become convinced I am hallucinating. Sleep deprivation does that, y'know. But lo! What furry face yonder peeks from behind the hat rack? We seal off the kitchen, and provide egress via the back door. Daddy heads out to the porch, trying to poke our visitor with the broom from the vantage point of the window. When he returns unsuccessful, we cede the area to Mr. Furry for now, and head back to sleep.
Fortunately, Mr. Furry can take a hint. Knows when he's not wanted and all that sort of thing.
Next morning, the Professor and I with our trusty broom and mop head for the kitchen, and check every single nook and cranny, big enough or no, for the interloper. Happily we report the all clear to the other kids and breakfast begins.
Rest assured, if you show up at our door, we will shoulder our broom and mop in interests of of keeping the peace, so come on over.