First up was the fish.
And this weekend it bit me in the ass again.
It was somewhere around Saturday afternoon when I realized that one of our fish, a black molly named Black (after Big Black of the show Rob & Big) wasn't doing too well and that one of the other fish was pecking away at his listing body.
Before this progressed any further, I called the boys in and had them take a gander at the tank and see if they could come up with a solution. My oldest Spencer suggested that we remove Black until he could get back on his feet. So I got the net and scooped out Black and put him in a bowl.
Shortly after, my wife came home and we calmly explained the situation. She told the boys it looked like Black was going to die and that we should take him to the pet store with a sample of our water.
Black was my son Cole's fish. He didn't seemed too upset about the prospect of Black dying as long as he could get a replacement fish. Spencer was deeply concerned and went with my wife to the pet store.
They came back empty handed but with the promise that tomorrow they would get to go to the pet store again. But one thing that did come up was that Spencer's fish was an aggressive fish and the cause of Black's untimely demise. The only solution - it was determined - was that Shark as he was so aptly named - must be removed from the tank.
And then came the tears.
Lots of tears.
Spencer was upset at the thought of it all.
The next day when they went off to the pet store, with Shark in hand to trade in, and Spencer could barely composed himself. At some point Cole put his arm around him and told him that it would be okay and that he can stop crying now. Cole, after all, explained that Black had died and he didn't cry.
Spencer's response?
That this situation was harder because it was like taking away a member of the family (all told through lots of tears & sobs). We've always known him to be the sensitive type but when he found out about Black he didn't shed a tear. Although he did confess to me later that he was surprised that Cole didn't get more upset.
It's days like this you just want to say, "They are fucking FISH people!" but you can't and must keep the facade of the calm, cool parent.
After the fish fiasco, came the tooth. Or teeth issue. Spencer had this top tooth dangling forever but suddenly one of his bottom teeth fell out at the beginning of the weekend. When he asked how much he would get my wife told him that she would wait until the other tooth fell out.
When I came home from working a pre-game party for the UNC vs. Wake Forest game, Spencer ran to the front door to show me his new toothless smile. Shortly before bedtime, when querying about how much money he was going to bring in from two teeth, he spat out this gem: "Since I know you are the Tooth Fairy, the only thing left I wonder about is are my parents Santa Claus..."
We are doomed.
On top of all that, my brother-in-law has been in the hospital with lung issues. He's a life-long smoker, so while the verdict so far isn't dire, it is painfully obvious the dude has to quit smoking for his quality of life to improve. This news coming just weeks after my father-in-law's recent hospitalization for his heart so the year seems to be off to quite a start.
This would be the perfect time for a Mountain Goats song...
