Straight out of Beatrix Potter
After everyone had gotten a good look, we put the babies in another pile of wood that isn't getting moved today, and where the mom mouse had run. Everyone went inside, except my 12 year old ds. I had told the kiddos that they would probably die, but just in case let's put them where the mom might find them. I didn't think she would come back, but didn't really know what else to do. Shortly afterwards, ds came in with a little smile, and told me he had quietly knelt there, and soon the mom came back, and carried the four wee ones away, one at a time. He was quite pleased, I could tell, but his smile was one of the bite-the-cheeks-so my-emotions-don't-show type so common in boys his age.
Why did we try to save the little mice? I don't know exactly, because we don't really like it when they get into the house, which is every fall. But they were helpless, and doing no harm, and they were alive. I especially thought it was sweet how pleased my boy was. Can tenderness every be a bad thing?