Squeak, squeak

The kids took a class on mice this morning at a local park, and I don't know whether to be amused or ashamed by the conversation when the instructor asked the ten or so four- and five-year-olds to share what they knew about mice.

KID #1: "They're gray."

KID #2: "And fuzzy."

KID #3: "They like cheese."

VINCENT: "Hawks like to eat them."

KID #4: "Mickey Mouse lives in Disneyland."

VINCENT: "Owls like to eat them, too."

KID #5: "They go squeak, squeak."

VINCENT: "And eagles eat them."

KID #6: "They have whiskers and long tails."

VINCENT: "Eagles grab the mouses with their sharp talons."

KID #7: "I want a pet mouse."

VINCENT: "And then they rip them apart with their beaks."

At that point Dominic took a face plant off the chair so I had to leave the room. Just as well. In Vincent's defense, we just finished studying owls and saw two owl presentations by rescue groups (very cool). The highlight of the morning was being able to pet a mouse, although both kids expressed dismay that it was dead and stuffed, not real.

And that there weren't any hawks around to eat it, I suppose.