Flashback Friday

I remember when Zac got his fish.

Last Tuesday.

He loves them so much. "Spotty" and "Nemo" are the highlight of his day.

He calls me at work to see how they are doing.

At night, we put the tank in between his bed and the nightlight, so he can watch them swim until his eyes won't stay open anymore.

And then we hear in the morning how they "ate their food 10 times!" before he fell asleep.

We hear him talking to them in the evening, telling them how to roll dice correctly. And telling them he is "so glad the pet store was open."

He thinks he is their "Daddy."

So, Sarah and I promise to take care them while he is gone for the weekend. We even cleaned their tank last night. But when we wake up this morning, they are floating at the top of the tank.

WHY GOD?! Why? We have murdered his children!

Our weekend, formerly planned with fun things like sorting the garage and folding laundry, now will consist of us freezing little Nemo and Spotty, then frantically searching the metroplex pet stores to find a matching set of goldfish before Zac comes home on Sunday.

Surely we aren't the first parents lying and conniving trying to protect the emotional stability of our child.