When my cousin went back to NH a few months ago, she left behind a fish. Which, honestly, didn't please me, as I'm a crappy pet owner and had no desire to take on a fish I didn't want in the first place. I'm pretty good with pets when I don't have kids, and perhaps if the kids were older... but at this point, on the list of priorities, a pet falls down pretty low, so in the interest of what's best for the pet, I don't have one.
But there we were, with the fish. So Jessica named it, Aphrodite, and set up a little place for her. She was far more enthusiastic than I was, and launched herself into pet ownership with all of her characteristic passion. She put small sea themed figurines in the bowl for her, and sang to the fish. Fed her almost all the time, and was, in general, a stellar sort of pet owner. Excepting that one time she dropped it.
Yesterday, she came screaming into the bedroom, because Aphrodite was floating sideways. According to Dr. Google, he had swim bladder. A bad swim bladder? I don't know - Dr. Google was perhaps not as informative as I would have hoped. But after a long day of watching and praying and crying, the fish finally went belly up, literally. It was her first experience with pet death, and it was so sad.
I also rearranged my Sammy Boy's bedroom, to give him more space to play. Yesterday was my mad cleaning day, I got all of the girls' clothes hung up and the beds all made. Not that Julianna is sleeping in her bed, but at some point, she might, and when it happens, the bed is ready. \
I'm exhausted, apologies for the boring blog post. I haven't slept in two nights, and it's entirely not my kids' fault. They've all been sleeping fine, but for some random reason, I've been up until well after midnight and then popping awake off and on all night after that. I miss sleep. A lot.
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