Awkwardly explaining to children which animals it's ok to kill

"I could have simply told my 3-year-old the mice had moved out. But it was too late."

I have spent happy times in the garden with my daughter, seeking out little animals. Her voice is always full of wonder as she prods snails, coaxes ants up sticks and feels a worm writhing in her hands. Between exposing my kids to god's creatures and scolding them for stamping on spiders, I think I've done a good job of getting them to respect nature.

Our recent acquisition of a set of seven Indian stick insects has proved that they can respect even the smallest of creatures, and take great care in handling them (yes, I confess, it was me who accidentally ripped off one of the insects’ legs).

But in recent months, faced with a number of vermin incidents in our crumbling Victorian terrace, I’ve have been struggling to explain, well, certain things.

Three weeks ago we sat and watched a family of cute little mice, possibly teenagers in the prime of their lives, rushing about on our floor nibbling adorably on the crumbs from our dining table.

Only days later, I had to explain I had “called in Saxondale” and they were all….(awkward pause) dead by poisoning. My older boys were quite thrilled by this announcement, even though they did also point out it was “really sad”.  On reflection, I could have simply told my nearly-4-year-old the mice had moved out. But it was too late.

The same happened in the summer when an ant invasion threatened the very fabric of the house. I was quick to exterminate the critters with the Raid spray – and then had to explain how that fitted in with my constant entreaties that my boys “be kind to the ants”. I feebly explained that you had to be kind to the ants, but if they came into your house, a Normandy landings style bloodbath was absolutely fine. A lot to get your head round if you are six.

This was all topped off this morning when a small clothes moth landed on my head, I reached up and squashed it with a shriek. Unfortunately, I was sitting next to my confused young daughter.

You have not seen a more mournful child than one asking, in a plaintive voice: “Mummy, why did you kill the butterfly and put it in the bin?”

My answer of “because they are not pretty butterflies and they eat my jumpers” was distinctly off-message.

Anyhow. Don’t even get me started on eating meat. My children love it and say they couldn’t live without it. I would be happy to ban it if they did not skin me alive for doing so.

We’ve got a little way to go in our house, as you can see.

Stick insects: the chosen ones