Today is a difficult day for us. I returned from taking Lucy to pre-school and walked into the kitchen. I spied something on the counter and was trying to figure out what it was...after all, I had left the counter clean last night, hadn't I? So what was that? A wadded-up candy wrapper? Something Zoe got that Brian picked up after?
Then I realized what it could be and glanced at the fish bowl. One fish, not two fish. Baby Fish, not Ken fish.
Ken was sent to the endless Goldfish pond in the sky this morning by way of spatula. It made me very sad to take him off the counter that way but I'm not tough enough to do it more personally, I guess.
I wish I knew why, Ken. Was it the toddlers tapping incessantly on the glass? The lack of privacy? Was it the holidays?
I hate to say this, but I don't think Baby Fish reads my blog, and I don't think anyone who does read my blog would be so insensitive as to tell Baby Fish what I'm about to write: Ken was my favorite. I loved his long fins and coloring. I loved the way he snapped up the pellets of food I dropped in the water. I will (honestly) miss him (or her).
