What became of the monk?

Let's talk about squirrels.

Let's talk about the kamikaze squirrels who hurl themselves at our windows, get stuck on the screens, hang there twitching for a while, and then hurtle to the ground.

Let's talk about the squirrels who may or may not be living in our attic. I'm choosing to label them squirrels because we've seen no internal evidence of mice or rats and that prospect is just too creepy to address, anyway (that's my Room 101, people. Deal with it.). They are either living in the attic or very active at night running across the roof. I can't tell, but I only hear them then, when I'm feeding the baby, so I can't run outside and check to see if they are scampering above the roof or (hopefully not) below it.

Let's talk about the squirrels who caper around in our hazardous pine tree. It was clearly once hit by lightening, so half of the branches are missing, and it's very likely going to fall to the ground at some point. But the squirrels love it. And they like to rain the pine cones down on our roof suddenly...and loudly.

Let's talk about the squirrels who, despite their many antics, move too quickly for J to see them, thereby making me look silly every time I shout "Look at the squirrel" and he turns to see...nothing. And wonder why his mommy is crazy.