Moby Dork

Nathan's goldfish is gone. I don't mean gone as in dead (although he is most certainly dead). I mean gone as in disappeared. Missing. Not in the bowl. When Nathan sat down to eat his breakfast this morning, he immediately exclaimed, "My fish is gone!" And he was. Several weeks ago the fish propelled himself out of the bowl, flopped across the table, and was lying on Nathan's place mat gasping when Kevin found him. So I assumed he had pulled another Houdini and began searching. We looked all over: on the table (including under the piles of junk that tend to accumulate because it is a flat surface), under the table, behind nearby furniture, in the shoes that live nearby, Daniel and Nathan even got out their flashlights and peered under the stove and the fridge even though I was sure the fish could not have flopped that far. But we could not find the fish.

Eventually we had to give up for a time in order to get everyone ready for church. I got dressed, the boys sat down to eat breakfast, and then Kev came home from his meetings. When he heard we had a rogue fish, he began researching everywhere in case I had missed something. I was pretty sure I wouldn't miss a dead fish, but I wouldn't bet the farm on it. As the clock kept on ticking, we again had to abandon the search. I was brushing my teeth and Kev was getting Matthew dressed when I heard Daniel yell, "Whoa!!! I found the fish!!!" And sure enough. There he was, stuck to the back of Daniel's bib (Daniel only wears a bib when he is eating in his Sunday shirt because he only has one white shirt and a stray bit of ketchup would ruin church for Mom). He had been sitting there wearing the fish the whole time! He admits quite freely that it kind of freaked him out.


Poor, dead, dried out fish. He must have flung himself out of his bowl sometime soon after being fed last night because he was completely crunchy. And not in a good fish stick way. Nathan asked Kev why we couldn't cut the fish. I think he is super curious about what a fish looks like inside because he asked me during the great search why we couldn't see fish bones and in my distraction I replied that we had no idea where the fish was so of course we couldn't see his bones. Poor, sad, bummed out Nathan. during his preschool birthday celebration on Wednesday, he counted the fish as a member of the family. So now we need a new fish. And a bigger bowl. With a lid. Perhaps a fishbowl by Tupperware.

In conclusion, please join me in a moment of silence in remembrance of Goldfish. May he rest in peace.



Stupid fish.