I confess I once committed a grave sin. When my son was in the sixth grade, he had a science fair project. For once we planned ahead. His premise was “Sugar makes mice hyperactive.” We purchased eight white mice, dividing them into two cages. One group got sugar. The other didn’t. John monitored each groups activities for a few minutes daily.

There wasn’t much to watch. During the day, the mice mostly burrowed under the shredded paper in the cage. Some days later, it became abundantly clear there had been plenty going on under that shredded paper. Little mice started slipping through the wires of the cages to cavort around.

Horrified at the population explosion, I shut the experiment down. “These mice have to go! Hurriedly, we gathered up both cages of mice to put them outdoors till we came up with a solution. Fortunately, the babies scurried back to their mamas.

Providentially, a neighbor kid stopped by as we were pondering what to do. By this time John was thoroughly tired of the whole problem. “What are you gonna do with ’em?” he asked.

I don’t know but we can’t keep them in the house.” I answered.

Heaven smiled. “Can I have’em?” he asked.

I didn’t think twice. I didn’t tell him to call his mom. “John, help Stevie take these mice home.”

I hope I can one day be forgiven.