Edward finally graduated from Kindergarten. In his mind, he’s ready for 4th grade–at least that’s what he tells people. To celebrate this milestone, we asked him where he wanted to go eat and what he wanted to do. Without missing a beat, he blurted out “Red Robin” (read $10.00 hamburger) and “Buy some pet fish!”
You see, a teenage neighbor had given Joseph a beloved “beta” or Japanese Fighting Fish that was bestowed upon him by a now ex-girlfriend. So Edward had been vying for his own fish for several months.
At least he is a child who knows what he wants, so after perusing the offerings for a few minutes, he quickly points to a tank of tiny goldfish. “Five of these—that’s what I need!” Now these look so tiny to me, and I’m concerned about the potential voracity of the blue thing, named “Wyn,” that we’ve already got. I also don’t want another tank on my kitchen counter.
So I approach the seventeen-year-old “Pet Specialist” with my concerns. “Oh no, they are completely compatible!” she promises. Edward beams. The specialist plops the five fish in a baggie and rings up our total: 64 cents. Man, I got off cheap…or so I thought.
The next morning, one of the five fish (or should I say half of one of the five fish) is floating aimlessly at the bottom of the tank. Thankfully, his missing half is hidden by the decorative pebbles so that Edward only notes that he is “searching for food down there by the rocks.” Yes, isn’t he diligent?
A few days later: “How come we started with 5 fish and now there are only 2?”
And then the ominous question, “What’s that furry stuff growing on my beautiful blue fish?” (I should have taken a picture but, really, it was gross.)
I won’t bore or pain you with the details of researching the “fur” and realizing it was some fungal infection scientifically called “Saprolegnia.” Maybe it was transmitted by one of the 5 “Kindergarten Graduation” fish? How we purchased some costly “vitamins” in hopes of reviving Wyn, to no avail. How H hastily flushed the infected Wyn down the toilet (when he started gasping uncontrollably at water’s edge) without consulting anyone or giving anyone the chance to say his or her farewells. How this broke many hearts and resulted in a much later than normal bedtime due to histrionic wailing (a little too convincing for my taste).
But yet how one spunky “Kindergarten Graduation” goldfish remains, albeit alone, happily munching the expensive vitamin food.
Now he’s the real fighter.