We are driving to Penticton in the summer when little bits of fluffy insulation start blowing out of the air vents. Dad says, "Hey, that's weird. I wonder if we have mice?" Then laughs that phony Dad laugh that has me and Flynn rolling our eyes.

We arrive at the campsite and start our unpacking. We all have our chores. Flynn gathers firewood, I help Dad set up the tent trailer, and Mom starts unpacking the back of the van.

She screams, "I saw something move!"

We all run over and watch a small brown mouse run to the passenger seat at the front of the van. Mom's seat. She runs up and opens the door, I guess hoping the mouse will hop out. When he doesn't, she drops the cooler on him.

Flynn's yelling. "Don't kill him, don't kill him!" Mom and I share a look as she uses a stick to lift the mouse and place him on a rock near the end of the campsite.

"He's just sleeping, Flynn," she tells my brother. I know better but also know enough not to ignore that look Mom gave me. Flynn doesn't need to know.

We go back to our unpacking, Mom jumping every few seconds, but no further mice appear. "Maybe there was only one," she says to Dad.

He grunts. "There's never just one."

The next day, we decide to head to the waterslides. It's hot and beautiful out and Flynn and I are looking forward to the slides and to some slushy drinks afterwards. We're almost there when Mom screams again.
She has her feet up on her seat and points down at the little cooler bag she'd brought some snacks in. Sitting on top, staring right at her, is another mouse.

Dad parks the car and hurries over to Mom's door. He opens it and carefully lifts the cooler bag out, mouse and all, placing it on the ground. The mouse sniffs the air then hops off and runs across the parking lot.
The people in the next car are staring like they've never seen anybody set a mouse free in a waterslide parking lot before. The man says, "Um, was that a mouse?"

Dad's like, "Yup." And his shrug says, So? 

Flynn and I are laughing, Mom not so much.We have fun at the waterslides.

The next day we need groceries before we can go to the beach so, off we go to Safeway. Mom is, by now, always sitting with her feet up on her seat, so instead of screaming when she sees the next mouse on the floor, she just points. Her hand's a bit shaky.

Dad lets this one out as well and we head into the store. A guy stops us on the way in, gesturing to where the mouse took off.

"Was that what I think it was?"

Dad says, "Well I guess that depends on what you think it was."

We get our groceries, fill up the big cooler and head off to the beach. It's great – hot and sunny. Flynn and I play frisbee and swim and then it's time to head back to the campsite. On our way back, we're singing 99 Bottles of Beer on the wall when, wait for it, Mom screams.

"It was on my foot, ahhhh, pull over, pull over!!" Mouse #4 is putting the moves on Mom. I can see his little nose twitching and his beady little black eyes fixed on her.

Dad says there's nowhere to stop, she'll just have to wait until the campsite. He tells her not to scare the mouse or it'll run back under the dash. I'm laughing and Flynn's yelling at her to not hurt the mouse. Mom pulls her feet up and her arms in and makes herself the tiniest version of Mom that she can. She and the mouse have a staring contest all the way back to the campsite.

When Dad comes around to open her door and the mouse jumps out this time, Mom shakes her head. "I want to go home. On the bus. Or on a plane."

Dad hugs her but doesn't say anything. There really isn't anything he can say.
We barbecue hot dogs for supper and do s'mores for dessert. I make Mom a marshmallow toasted just the way she likes it and she tries to smile for me. "Thanks, honey."

Dad pulls out his guitar as we sit around the fire and we sing some of our favourites. Then it's time for me and Flynn to go to bed. Mom warms our pajamas up in front of the furnace and we jump up into our sleeping bags.

"Night, guys!" Mom kisses us and she and Dad head back out to the fire.

Flynn and I wrestle a bit, then tell each other funny stories and try not to laugh too loud. Still, Mom hears us, she always does and says for us to be quiet and go to sleep. So, we do. I wake up to Flynn poking me in the ribs. I scowl at him in the dark and whisper shout for him to stop. He says, "Look outside. Mom and Dad are being totally weird."

We creep to the window of the tent trailer and quietly slide the zipper down. I stare in amazement. Flynn is right. The night is pitch black and it's as quiet as, well, a mouse. Mom and Dad have flashlights and big sticks and they're standing on either side of the van and all the doors are open. There are two little mice watching them in the gleam of the lights.

Dad's whispering, "C'mon mouse, come to the doors." Mom's swaying back and forth a little. I grab Flynn before he can shout to not kill the mice as I see that Mom is pretending that she has a pool cue. She jabs her stick at the mice, and they hop out of the door on the other side of the van and disappear into the night.
Dad waves his flashlight around for a bit more then shakes his head. "I think we're done." He takes the stick from Mom and leans it against the picnic table with his. Mom closes the van doors as quietly as she can.
When they head back to the trailer, I zip up the window as quick as I can. Flynn and I dive under our blankets and do our best fake snores. Mom and Dad don't seem to notice.

The next morning is sunny and beautiful and we head down to the lake. For the first time since this whole thing began, no mouse appears on the floor by Mom's seat. She keeps her feet up just in case though. We play mini golf the next day and Flynn gets a hole in one and I get the lowest score, so we figure, all in all, that it was a pretty good day.

And no mice.

Dad, having kept count in his Dad way, informs us that we had six mice in total. "Must've been a mom and her babies that got into the dash somehow." He is sure we are done. Mom isn't quite so sure.

We are there for another four days before it's time to head home. We take down the trailer and repack the back of the car and head on our way. We stop for breakfast at the cool place where they bring your bacon and eggs in pirate ships and there's a golden coin (chocolate really) hidden somewhere on the ship.It's once we hit Roger's Pass high up in the Rocky Mountains that we hear the now-familiar sound of Mom screaming. Dad doesn't even flinch, just keeps on driving.

Scrunched up on her seat, Mom points down to the floor. Again. And there is the tiniest mouse I've ever seen, and there's something wrong with one of his legs, so he kind of drags it as he heads back under the dash.
There's complete silence in the car for the next several kilometres. Really what is there to say? So, Dad puts the music back on and Flynn and I play I Spy out the windows and Mom stares at the floor. We get home before sunset and all pitch in to get unpacked so we can go out for pizza for supper – our traditional last meal. Mom makes us put everything on the lawn and shake it out before it goes in the house, so we don't bring any mice in with us. But the last little mouse remains out of sight.

Dad calls an exterminator the next day for advice and goes out to buy some glue traps. For a few days, nothing, then one morning he goes out and the little mouse is stuck on one of the traps by his paw.
Dad stares at the little guy for a long time then puts on his work gloves and ever so carefully pulls the mouse's foot off the trap. He cups him in his hands, and we walk over to the little forest just off the berm behind our house. And we let him go. Even Mom agrees that It seems only fair.