I heard the toliet flush.
Another death in the tank this morning.
Every Thursday, our high school starts an hour later.
So it was just me, my senior (about to leave me forever) and Tebow (the black lab, who will never leave me for I am the only one who runs with him.)
As we were walking out the door, I heard the toilet flush.
“The black goldfish died.”
What we just bought him?
So my high school student disposed of the fish before the eight year old got home.
* * *
Much later in the day, the eight year old and I were in Wal*Mart.
“Your black goldfish died.”
Why, oh why do I say such things?
We ended up looking at the fish.
“Here get some guppies. They always have babies,” I hear myself say.
I mentioned how they have babies as much as we have ground beef for dinner.
That’s all he needed to hear.
“Mama. When you are working, you need to take a chair and sit with your computer and watch the fish. When an egg comes out you race over to the little tank and put the egg in it.”
Oh dear.
“Joe,” I explained, “they don’t lay eggs they have live babies.”
His eyes got wide as pecan pies.
“You scoop them up the minute they pop out.”
Great.
This morning we were down one animal.
Tonight we are up five.
Who knows where we’ll be tomorrow?
Who has guppies out there? Can you really keep their babies?
