The Pressing On

Well, that didn’t take long.  If you read the post from yesterday, you might remember that we received two goldfish as a party favor at a kid’s birthday party.  Our son named one Devo and we named the other one Siggi.

Siggi’s dead.

Siggi is (was) the floater on the left.

Elizabeth noticed that one of the fish had “taken a break” from swimming.  To eliminate the thought that he was napping, I poked him with my finger.

Uh oh.

Now what?  Well, we did what any parent of a nearly-three-year-old might do.  We started the cover up.  First, we had to dispose of the body.

“How are we going to get it out?  We don’t have one of those little nets,” asked Elizabeth.

“I think I’m just going to pick him up,” I said.  And I did.  I laid him on a paper towel and did a brief autopsy.  Yep, he wasn’t moving.  Elizabeth distracted Rylan as I jetted to the bathroom.  Upon entering the bathroom, it occurred to me that I actually had to use the bathroom.

Do I pee first?

Do I pee on the fish?

There was no need to waste two full tanks of water on separate flushes.  So I rationalized that I should be humane and dump the fish in a bowl of pee rather than pee on the dead fish.  It seemed like the dignified thing to do.  As I dropped the fish carcass into the bowl, it hit at such an angle that it appeared to glide through the water.  For a brief moment, I actually thought Siggi was alive and I would have to stick my hand in the pee-water and pull out our Lazarus fish.

“OK, the fish is gone,” I announced quietly back in the living room.  “Do we tell him?”

We considered our options.  We could go get another fish and complete the cover up.  Two fish entered, two fish would remain.  Or, we could try to have “the death talk” with our son and wonder if he would understand.  Or…

Or, we could hope he doesn’t notice one is missing.

“I kinda feel like we’re lying to our son,” I said.  “No,” Elizabeth added, “as long as the other one is still there, I think we’re OK.”  As we were spiraling towards denial, our son said, “I want to feed the fishies.”

Fishies.  Plural.  Great.

“Sure, buddy,” I replied.  “You can feed the fish.”

Singular.

I picked him up and held him next to the food and the bowl.  He grabbed a pinch of the $4.25 goldfish food from Walgreen’s and dropped it in the fishbowl.  “Yay, he’s eating it!”

Whew!  It appears as if we dodged a bullet today, but we still need to formulate a plan for when Devo kicks the bucket…er…bowl.

Until then, long live Devo.