WE have hosted many preschool mascots over as many years. They were no trouble; the visits were incident-free.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
Patch the kindergarten teddy bear stayed in one piece the whole week long. Rainbow Rabbit didn’t escape our boundary fence. Lightning the Elephant didn’t strike anything once, let alone twice.
Then we met mischievous Mickey Mouse. Mickey came home with our four-year-old on a Friday afternoon before our girls headed off on a sleepover that weekend.
I texted my friend: “Can you handle an extra? We have the preschool mascot.” Affirmative, she could. “Please take a couple of snaps of Mickey having fun too,” I tried my luck, knowing we’d have to write a report.
On Monday night I settled down to watch Australian Story when my husband revealed the headline that would change the course of the next 24 hours.
“She’s lost Mickey,” he said, matter-of-factly.
What? I did a quick walk-through of the darkened house, looking high and low for the missing mouse. I retraced our busy afternoon in my head. I had photographed Mickey and our preschooler in a Mickey mask before we went out. Mickey was with us for school pickup, our eldest’s ballet lesson and a trip to Border Bulk Foods; I narrowed down the last confirmed sighting to a two-block radius.
I was convinced the mouse was at the ballet studio. Unfortunately, it was the week before Albury-Wodonga eisteddfod when costumes, sewing stations and tutus were wall to wall. I imagined Mickey lost under piles of tulle, only to resurface as a prop in a 6-year-old’s solo three years from now. It felt ridiculous to even trouble the studio owner with my email: “We’ve lost a mouse in the studio; not a real one mind!”
The next morning over breakfast our preschooler remembered she had the mascot with her at school pickup. Mid-morning I phoned the school. The receptionist worried our preschooler must be distraught until I explained we didn’t actually own Mickey and that our preschooler was not as upset as her mother! She sent an email to all staff.
My work colleague empathised before saying: “You know you’re going to be forever known as that family who lost Mickey Mouse!” My husband suggested we just buy another one. But it looked less like something you’d get at Kmart and more like something you’d buy at Disneyland. We were truly stuffed! On Tuesday afternoon I phoned the school for an update. No Mickey but they’d posted the incident on their Facebook page.
Later our preschooler worked on her mascot report as I printed photos of Mickey and contemplated how we’d break the terrible news to a bunch of five-year-olds: “Mickey Mouse had to go back to the clubhouse! We’re very, very sorry.”
Then just as our girls were getting into bed that night I got wind of some great news.
“I FOUND MICKEY!” yells the preschooler. “HE WAS DOWN BESIDE MY BED!!”
We titled the preschool report: Mickey Mouse is in the House!
