The Fish Killer Strikes Again

I’m not out of bed five minutes this morning before Feisty Girl comes into the bathroom while I’m showering wearing her tiara and cheetah print pajamas and tells me something that puts a shot of terror through my heart. While I was asleep (the kids have today off and yes I’m blessed to be able to sleep in while my six-year-old goes downstairs very quietly so she can “sneak” extra T.V. time. It’s a win-win situation really. She gets extra T.V. and I get extra sleep.)
Anyway, while Super Pooper and I were still in bed, our neighbors who are going to NYC this weekend (the ones that can’t make the egg hunt) asked if we would watch their goldfish for the next three days. I gasp while washing my hair as Feisty Girl shares how she said “Sure.” and reached out to take their fish bowl. Her sleeping mommy would’ve said yes also, but with a major disclaimer . . . Fish Killer lives here.

Fish Killer has already killed six goldfish, including one LAST NIGHT! (I blame Fish Killer because he’s the fish tank manager. I try to distance myself from this carnage.) While Sweet Angel was at her slumber party, blissfully unaware, Fish Killer flushed his sixth dead fish. Unfortunately for Sweet Angel, this was her second goldfish to die in two months. Fish Killer’s all time record was two months ago when Sweet Angel’s fish didn’t last 24 hours. Fish Killer quickly realized his mistake and promptly properly treated the water and bought a new filter. He’s trying, but his track record speaks for itself.

When Sweet Angel bounced around this morning sharing the entertaining antics of the slumber party, and how the birthday girl’s goldfish ate one of the smaller fish in the tank, Sweet Angel directed her attention to our fish tank to make sure her cutie was still safe.
“Where’s my fish?” She asks, not for the first time. I was going to tell her the bad news, but she beat me to it. I wanted her to ride the high of her night out a little longer. “Uh . . .” Before I even get out a coherent response, she says “That’s okay.” See what I mean about being an angel? “My other one is still alive.” Give it time honey, I think to myself.

So, it’s bad enough when your own kids’ goldfish die on your watch. Now I have to worry all weekend about our neighbors’ fish dying. I’ve got enough to worry about hiding 100 eggs in the snow! Well, the neighbors have four goldfish. The odds are with us that at least one will be alive at the end of the weekend. Wish us luck!