For some, unknown, reason, Doctor decided he needed another pet - his 5 month old cat Trapper, the 5 other cats and the family dog Duce were not enough. No, now he needed a goldfish! After lengthy discussions with both him and his father, it was decided; on our next trip to the city we would get him a fish.
Excitedly, yet as gently as a child can be, Doctor put his new goldfish into the prepared and waiting aquarium. The weekend finished as per norm and Monday dawned in the same old fashion. A considerable amount of attention was diverted from schoolwork and given to the new fish who didn't seem to be fairing too well. I readied Tires and Butterfly and ushered them to the van for school. I hadn't been gone for more than 3 minutes when my cell phone loudly played it's designated 'home' ring tone. "Oh no." I grumbled. "I'm already late, I can't go back because Buddy decided he wants to go for a car ride!" I sighed heavily and answered my phone "hello? --- hello?" Doctors soft and quivering voice responded, "mom, what does it mean when a fish is floating upside down with its eyes open?" "Honey,"I started but hesitated -- should I lie and tell him it's asleep and spare his broken heart for a little while or should I break the news so his tender hopes wouldn't rise? The car jostled over the uneven gravel road as I silently mulled over my dilemma. "It's dead honey! I'm sorry!" His sobs ripped my heart out of my chest. "We will get you another one" I promised. "Just don't worry about the fish until I get home! Are you going to be okay?" Between his grief he sobbed out "I--Dunno."
Grateful that the situation was not more serious than it was, I finally arrived at the school, greeted teachers, kissed my babies and made the return for home, not quite sure what I'd be coming home too...it certainly was not what I was expecting that's for sure!
As I entered the front door I was mauled down by a herd of kids. Buddy, all wide-eyed and alarmed was the first to speak "da fish...ou' wa'er...poopy butt...toi'e'...f'owers...f'ush!" Then he attempted to mimic the sound of a flush and wildly demonstrate the swirling water in a toilet bowl. From the time we had invested in potty training and his alarm, I deduced that in his small mind the fish was trying to use the pot but did not survive the venture.
With eyebrows raised I surveyed the guilty faces and asked "who wants to make that into full sentences for me?"
Doctor started "you said the fish was dead, so I put it in the toilet --"
"F'owers! Fish! poopy butt!" Buddy interrupted.
"Flowers?" I questioned
"Mother did it!" Doctor was quick to inform.
"They were very tiny!" Mother piped up, in self defense.
"Fish - poopy butt!" Buddy informed again.
"It all went down okay!" Cowgirl added.
"Fish - poopy butt!" Buddy said, just to make sure we had heard. By now I had this horrible, gut wrenching feeling that this was going to have a negative impact on our efforts to potty train!
Time enough passed for Buddy to resume potty training when 4 new fish and a snail made their homes with us. Right off, two fish died and the kids mourned the deaths of their beloved 12 hour acquaintances.
"Flush them," I instructed in the general direction of mourners. "But no flowers this time!"
Dad arrived home, and after being mobbed in affection life resumed.
The dull roar abruptly exploded into a heightened cacophony.
"Water! We need water now!" "Quick! Get a bowl or a cup!" "Where's the water?"
I called out "What's going on?" As I made my way to the riot Buddy barreled into my legs.
"Buddy got the fish out of their tank and is running around with them!" Someone shrieked.
"What?" I asked as Buddy shoved past me.
With cat-like reflexes I caught Buddy by the shoulder and turned him around. My eyes widened with alarm as they focused on two small fish tails peeking out of his little fists. Cowgirl had seen them as well, the cacophony increasing. I took notice of the lifeless state of his prisoners and informed the raging mob "they're DEAD!" Mournful wails erupted and we're quickly silenced when Mother said "but there are fish in the tank!" Confused eyes darted from face to face to face as everyone tried to process the given information.
Dad, being so wise, asked "who put the dead fish in the toilet?" A meek voice answered "I did." "Did you remember to flush?" He probed further. "I forgot" the same small voice admitted. An agitated groan rippled from most members of the family.
With fish now flushed and hands well washed I sat on the couch to recomposed myself, vowing to never buy another goldfish!
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