Last night, Brian and Joseph went on a little father-son outing to our local garden supply store to pick up some lawn fertilizer.
When they arrived home, Joseph came bursting in the door with a huge smile, carrying this
Yes, it’s a fish. Brian let him pick out his own little pet fish to bring home.
“Oh wow!” I said, “Ummm…We’re doing fish now? You got him a fish…? Where’s his bowl?”
Well, as it turns out, Brian didn’t actually buy him a bowl.
Or any food.
Just a fish.
In an effort to protect Brian’s privacy (he is the man of the house after all), I will skip over what came next, but it may or may not have included explanations such as “he can take a bath with Joseph” or “he can swim around in a cup”.
And it ended in me taking an impromptu late night trip to Petsmart.
I kept my cool exceptionally well, I think (patting self on back), mostly because Joseph was SO thrilled with the whole situation.
And also because Brian has promised to do all of the tank-cleaning.
This poor little fish isn’t going to last a week.
PS Did I mention that I hate fish?
PPS His name is “Fire.”