Last week I started to notice that our beta fish was looking a little pale. I thought maybe he was cold or old or a combo of the two. A few times I noticed him hanging out in his bowl sort of
catywompus (as
PaPa would say). I would get his attention with a gentle nudge on his bowl and he would start swimming. Then finally the other day I came home from work and was getting supper ready when I reached for the
fish food to feed our dear friend only to realize that his little grey body was resting peacefully on the bottom of the bowl. I just left him there for the time being not wanting to have to address it with the kids. I thought I had made it through the evening without anyone noticing when all of the sudden I see Cullen pulling a stool over to the counter for his daily fish feeding time. I rushed over to him as he was dragging the bowl towards him. He was looking for
Nemo and kept repeating his normal request "I wanna feed the fish, I wanna feed
Nemo". I grabbed the bowl and told him no and of course he cried. I told him
Nemo couldn't eat right now. Thankfully Emerson's hearing is affected to the point where she didn't hear me and no questions were asked. After our normal bedtime routine I tucked the kids in and
sauntered back to the kitchen where I knew I would have to address the bloated fish. In a very brave moment I poured the fish into the net, did a quick exam, why I don't really know? I guess I thought I was working for the fish
CSI lab or something. No, there was no internal exam given! I wasn't about to fillet a beta fish the size of my finger. Anyway, I didn't know what to do with him and I actually briefly thought about putting him in a box and letting the kids bury him. Then I pulled from my own childhood experiences with fish deaths and remembered exactly what we did. . .send him to the big
toilet bowl in the sky! Yes, I flushed
Nemo! But just like the movie I told him "all drains lead to the ocean, go be free!" Not really, I actually just held my breath and flushed. The next morning rolled around and no mention of the fish. Whew, I thought I had dodged a bullet. Then after work we got home and about an hour went by and Emerson came up to me and asked:
"
Where is my fish?"
Me: "
huh?" complete avoidance, I thought this tactic might work
Emerson: "
You know, my fish, the one named Nemo?" which means "duh, Mom, the same darn fish we've had for a year"
Me: hesitantly "
well, Emerson, actually Nemo died"
Emerson: "
What did you do with him?"
Me: "
ummmm. . .(I was really searching for something but I'm not a good liar so I just said it)
I flushed him down the potty" oddly enough I sort of chuckled, how morbid?! Maybe it was one of those "not supposed to laugh at death moments"?
Emerson: "
You flushed him down the potty? Which one?" Not sure why that's important?
Me: "
mine"
Emerson: "
okay" she turns to walk away and chuckles and says as she's walking into the other room in her
growny nonchalant way, "
You should have just put him in the trash."
Lesson learned: Don't sweat the small stuff, just put it in the trash!
Playing with the loot. . .Go Diego Go!!!
