Today was a tragic day in the Young household. Our fish, Twinkle, passed away. To be honest, I'm not sure how she lived this long. I mean, between my forgetting to feed her and the kids overfeeding her, she was a trooper.
And coincidentally, my husband cleaned her bowl yesterday. Not that I'm blaming him! It's just... I don't know. Suspicious. :-)
Well, I was a little sad when I saw her lying at the bottom of her rocket ship bowl (especially because I thought dead fish floated to the top?). But I didn't expect the kids to melt down. And melted they did.
The poor things SOBBED into their chicken all through dinner. Sophie asked if she could hold Twinkle once more. And I thought, "When did you hold her? Maybe that's why she's dead?" But my son was the saddest. He locked himself in his room and cried.
When Sophie decided to write Twinkle a song to sing at the funeral, I gave my husband "the look". The look that says, "I'm really comfortable on the couch. Can you please just handle this?"
Twenty minutes later we were gathered around a shallow grave in the yard, singing: "Twinkle was a happy fish." Did I mention that it's freezing out? And that the spot my husband chose pretty much guarantees that the dogs will dig Twinkle up and eat her? I just hope the kids aren't home for that.
Anyway, after we got in, my son laid on the couch, sniffling. The dog came over and licked his face and Joey murmured, "Thank God dogs live forever."
Yeah, I'm not touching that one.