I am not a pet person.
I used to be, but that was before I had threegoats children who I'm required by law to take with me any time I go somewhere. Honestly, by the time we get home from the grocery store and someone spills a gallon of milk I'm like NO PETS. EVER. Not even cute little kittens who will die if we don't take them in.
So I don't know what I was thinking when I let my kids bring home three little goldfish from a party. But I did, so we had three of the most bored goldfish ever swimming around in a triangular vase (I wasn't willing to spring for a bowl). And then I started having worried mommy feelings for these fish. They would creep in when I least expected it and suddenly I was washing their vase every day because I didn't want them to be uncomfortable.
Seriously, I didn't want goldfish to be uncomfortable.
This is what pets do to you -- even slimy little goldfish you can't hold or pet -- they sneak in and make you care about them. And then you are stuck looking after them while your kids go about their lives ignoring them. Your kids don't even care about the fish at all until little Nemo dies and you find your daughter digging next to the raspberries because she wants to see her buried fish again. Then you feel bad for her and have delusional thoughts like, "Maybe we should get another fish."
The problem with that is that fish are just gateway pets. Once you get one you'll find yourself allowing thoughts of hamsters and bunnies and purse-sized doggies.
Thankfully, all three fish are dead now and I'm back to my senses after Matthew and Leah's quiet time project reminded me that I don't need any more living creatures to look after.
.JPG)
That's play-doh wrapped up in about three dollars worth of scotch tape, in case you couldn't tell. (I knew I should have been suspicious when I couldn't find the tape dispenser!)
I didn't take a picture of my carpet because it made me twitch a little bit. Let's just say that play-doh is officially banned from our house until the kids are 45.
Maybe by then I'll be willing to consider another fish...
I used to be, but that was before I had three
So I don't know what I was thinking when I let my kids bring home three little goldfish from a party. But I did, so we had three of the most bored goldfish ever swimming around in a triangular vase (I wasn't willing to spring for a bowl). And then I started having worried mommy feelings for these fish. They would creep in when I least expected it and suddenly I was washing their vase every day because I didn't want them to be uncomfortable.
Seriously, I didn't want goldfish to be uncomfortable.
This is what pets do to you -- even slimy little goldfish you can't hold or pet -- they sneak in and make you care about them. And then you are stuck looking after them while your kids go about their lives ignoring them. Your kids don't even care about the fish at all until little Nemo dies and you find your daughter digging next to the raspberries because she wants to see her buried fish again. Then you feel bad for her and have delusional thoughts like, "Maybe we should get another fish."
The problem with that is that fish are just gateway pets. Once you get one you'll find yourself allowing thoughts of hamsters and bunnies and purse-sized doggies.
Thankfully, all three fish are dead now and I'm back to my senses after Matthew and Leah's quiet time project reminded me that I don't need any more living creatures to look after.
.JPG)
That's play-doh wrapped up in about three dollars worth of scotch tape, in case you couldn't tell. (I knew I should have been suspicious when I couldn't find the tape dispenser!)
I didn't take a picture of my carpet because it made me twitch a little bit. Let's just say that play-doh is officially banned from our house until the kids are 45.
Maybe by then I'll be willing to consider another fish...
No comments:
Post a Comment