Monday Morning Started Off Bat Crazy

Ring ring.

“Yes, umm… so this is not a question I can ask God because, well… there’s a bat in our garage. What do I do?”

“Mama, can we keep it?”
“Ooohhh, I wanna see!”

“Everybody CALM DOWN!!”

Seriously… what do I do?

“Ok first, where is it, and are there babies? Because if there are babies, then you cannot move them.”

“Umm, just one, and no babies that I can tell.”

“Is there poop? Because that’s poisonous and you don’t want that.”

“No poop that I can tell.”

“Ok, get a broom and try to get it out the door.”

“Ok thanks, I’ll call back if things get out of hand.”

The oldest, who wants to keep it, is snapping pictures and begging to keep it.

The little one now wants to keep it too.

I rush to find the broom and then notice the bat is right on the edge of the door ledge. I figure if we slam the door hard enough, it might wake up and fly away.

So I tell the little one to go slam the door because she’s wild and loves that kind of stuff. Sure enough, she was all about it.

The oldest is starting to worry about the bat.

I cue the little one to slam the door.

The bat bounces… but doesn’t budge.

Again.

Bounce. No budge.

My turn with the broom.

It pops off the ledge and lands on the back steps.

Oldest: “Is it dead?”

Youngest: “Can I come out now?”

I say yes without thinking fast enough about what is about to unfold.

Both girls are now crying, and I am concerned we have actually killed the bat.

Things are officially getting out of hand, so here goes another call.

Ring ring.

“Yes, did it get out?”

“Umm… well… it is kind of face down, wings spread, toes spread, like we may or may not have killed it.”

Both girls are bawling their eyes out in the background.

Voice on the phone:
“They play possum.”

OOOHHHH wow.

Never knew that.

So now I’m getting a full educational lesson on bats at 7 AM.

I announce that it is playing possum and everyone needs to calm down.

The crying stops.

I hang up the phone and we continue being late for morning drop-off.

We get back that evening, and I have to redirect traffic away from the scene of the crime and into the house.

The oldest immediately goes to check, even though I told her not to, and sure enough… it’s still there.

In a very low voice, I tell her not to say a word unless she would like to hear wailing from the little one because we still do not know what is going on with it.

Boyfriend gets home.

“It’s still there?”

Darkness falls.

Boyfriend checks on our bat friend.

“It waited until dark and is now gone.”

Fun fact: bats are probably the heaviest sleepers in the entire universe. This little thing hit the deck hard and stayed asleep through all of it.

I think this is a good stopping point, and I can jump into my Narcolepsy story in the next one.

Yours Truly,
Cheyenne Stanley

Turning Chaos Into Clarity, One Blog at a Time