Berries!

  

Why every household should own a tennis racket:

 

The "racket" started at 4:45 a.m. with a scream from Heather, and then "There's a bat."

The bat made its way into Holly's room; Mom shut the door behind it and wedged some paper in to keep it closed, for lack of a standard doorknob.

Dad went in, armed with a tennis racket and a bucket (previously used as the compost bucket) and finished off the bat. We still don't quite know why he needed the compost bucket on his head, but we were thankful that the Fludermaus was taken care of and we could try go back to sleep.

And let that be a lesson to each and every one of you who does not have a tennis racket-like object on hand at all times.