Before I went to bed and tried to sleep, I put several large books over a hole in the baby's room so one of those suckers would not climb a pipe and enter Spencer's room.
"I'm going to work now, bye, love you, have a nice day...oh...ah...stay out of the basement, we have a family of possums...bye."
That would not fly.
My wife had anxiety attacks when I missed an exit on the Parkway. I could not bring myself to tell her we had a family of snarling ugly possums in the basement. And we only saw the babies; I knew there must be a momma somewhere.