Fish Story
Yesterday, we faced a difficulty every parent encounters. Death. Not ours, that wouldn't make for a good anecdote and would make it damn hard to type what with my fingers getting stiff and all. It wasn't even what I would consider a loved one. Oh hell, a fish died.
Now this was not an unusual experience in our house. For a family that eats no seafood, an uncomfortable number of our finned friends meet their demise here. But usually ether Carol or I discover the floating evidence and arrange for the scene to be properly flushed (if you get my drift). The boys have kind of accepted that sometimes the fish are just "missing". It's been kind of our own version of the don't ask - don't tell policy.
Anyway, yesterday the boys discovered a floater. I wasn't sure how they would react. There wasn't much emotional attachment to the fish so that was no big deal. But they did become fixated on what we should do with the fish. They had a fair number of ideas, but Doug got the award.
In the sweetest voice he comes up to me and says, "You know, the fish probably wouldn't think this was a good deal, but we could could take him to Grandma and Grandpa's house. They eat fish over there."
Appetizers anyone?
Next thing I know, Carol had flushed him. I'm kinda glad I'm too big for the pipes.
