Home Run aka Homer

There are times when things just come together (and times when they don't!). Adam asked for a couple of years for me to get a "pinkie mouse" (newborn baby mouse, still pink and fur-less) to raise. I had one when he was 4, and he still vaguely remembered how tiny it was and how neat it was to watch it grow. I, on the other hand, remembered getting up in the middle of the night to feed it, and having to find creative ways to bring it with me if I was going to be away from home for a long time. So, I fended Adam off, quite successfully, and there were no tiny, hairless rodents in our house. Until two weeks ago. As Chuck was cutting down a small, dead tree inside the fenced back yard, a flying squirrel came out of a hole and ran up the tree a little way. She wouldn't go up, and she wouldn't come down. I figured that, being nocturnal, she was "blinded by the light" and simply didn't know where to go or how to get there. We finally got a net, hoping to catch her and move her to another tree. When the net got close, she ran up the tree and glided out of the enclosed area to a stand of trees by the creek. Chuck made the last couple of cuts, and the tree begain to fall, just as everything began to come together in my tired old brain. As the tree thudded against the ground, I ran and yelled "There's a nest in here!" Adam, being Adam, immediately ran to the hole and stuck his hand all the way down in (thankfully, nothing venomous or with particularly large teeth was in there). He pulled out a tangle of moss and leaves, and inside were 3 tiny, hairless creatures. We only knew that they were flying squirrels because of seeing Mama. And, of course, the nagging began; "Can we keep one? Please, Mom, PLEASE? You know I've always wanted a pinkie mouse, and this is WAY better!" Mama had disappeared, and I didn't know for sure that she would come back. So, Chuck saved as much of the tree trunk as he could, with the hole, and we gently placed the nest with two babies down inside. We took it outside the gate and set it against a tree near to where we last saw the mama. (We also found a crushed baby on the outside of the tree.... ugh!). And we wrapped one of the little babies up in a paper towel and brought him (yes, it IS a him, and it IS obvious) inside. Adam named him "Home Run", because this was the home run of all pinkie critters, in his opinion. He is called "Homer", and somehow, it fits. After two weeks, I no longer have to get up in the middle of the night, but he still needs to be fed 5-6 times a day. I got a recipe for "squirrel milk" off the internet, and he seems to be thriving on it. I also got a table that shows growth and development, and it appears that the babies were within 2 or 3 days of being newborn when the tree was cut down. We still have several weeks to go before Homer can start to roam the woods behind our house; he still has no fur on his belly, and his eyes aren't yet open (and boy, will he be surprised when he sees what his "mama" looks like!). But I have enjoyed watching him grow, especially through Adam's eyes. God is certainly in the details, whether it's the finest of little whiskers on a furry face or the fulfillment of little boy's wish.