At least it wasn’t a puppy.

 

 

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.”