Plenty of Fish in the Sea

Scoot the beta fish died while The Boy and I were out of town a few weeks ago. He was on his last leg fin before we left, and wasn't acting like himself. While we were gone the Husband texted me "Scoot died for real this time."

This is the third Scoot that has crossed over into the Great Sea Beyond. Each time we've just quietly replaced him with a new Scoot and haven't mentioned it. The Boy didn't even get suspicious when Scoot 2 appeared with new brightly colored rocks and he was a little more red than purple. This time I thought surely it was time to finally discuss death. I figured the loss of a fish was a good, non-threatening place to start.

So, when we got back we sat The Boy on the counter and reminded him that Scoot had been sick and told him that Scoot died while we were gone. He looked serious, hugged my neck and said "that makes us SO SAD." Oh bless him. At the mention of sadness, The Husband interjected with "BUT, buddy, we can go to the store and you can pick out a NEW FISH!"

The Boy was intrigued. After his 15 seconds of grief he announced "I want an orange one and I wanna name it Dowffy (Dorothy) like Elmo's!" Easy come, easy go. Obviously death was not nearly as touchy as we expected.

So today we went to the pet store, The Boy went up to the counter and said to the cashier "can I have an orange fish pwease?" She sent for a fish guy, who scooped out the first orange fish he could grab. Turns out goldfish cost a quarter each, so I told him we could spring for two. That's how we roll. He asked why the fish guy put them in a bag, to which the fish guy responded "you can't carry a fish home in your hand." So there.

We paid for the fish and took them home. I told The Boy he could name them anything he wanted. So now we have two gold fish: poo poo and tee tee.

An Almost Three Year Old

I haven't written in a while because a) I am exhausted, and b) nothing that interesting has been going on. I could write and tell you about our trips to the grocery store and the library and the likes, but that wouldn't be very entertaining for either of us.

The Boy WILL BE THREE NEXT WEEK. Oh Em Gee. Can you believe it? I can't. In case you don't have one, let me tell you a little bit about almost three year olds.

~ They ask questions about everything. All the time. Questions like "are wolves shy?" and "what's a minivan?" and "How jump can you high?" and "Can people save banana chips (for later)?" and "Why can't we get naked in front of the neighbors?" and "What are cucumbers made of?" and "Who is the boss of squirrels?"

~They talk. All. The. Time. If it's not questions, it's monologues about super heroes and cars and dishes and dogs and magic and Santa and blankets and Harry Potter and friends on rocket ships and a monster named Franken-celery, and that time we went to that place where we did that thing.

~They melt down. Not just about nap times and what to eat, but about other legitimate things, like a strawberry touched their mango, or their ice is too cold, or the blue spoon not being clean, or not wanting to go HOOOOOOME from the PLAYGROUNNDDDD or lightening bugs not being out during the day, or the pillow not laying the way they want, ie "waying cwazy" or not being able to find Hawkman's other wing after they THREW Hawkman's other wing.

~They think poopoo is hilarious. I really thought we would somehow dodge this one by not having any reaction to any potty words. Want to go on a poopoo ride? Sure. You want poopoo for lunch? Great. But it didn't work. Even a little. In fact, almost three year olds say poopoo 400 times a day, and then tell you 454 times a day that they just said poopoo words.

~They move. It's nonstop. We went to a three year old birthday party last weekend and they are all like gnats on speed. They ride scooters in the house. They do flips off their beds. They run until their little faces are red and their hair is dripping with sweat. They scoot on their bums down the stairs just to climb back up and start over. And they NEVER get tired.

~They tell jokes. Jokes that sometimes flop on execution. Jokes like "what do you get when you cross a cocka doodle doo? Time to get a new bed!" And lots of jokes where the punch line is "poo poo."

~They have their own sense of style that can't be beat.

~They are the sweetest. They give hugs and hold hands, and say things like "mama, I love you to the top of the moon" and they offer to kiss your booboos and they thank you for fixing their snack and ask you to marry them, then once you say yes they tell you they're kidding.

That's Almost-3-Year Olds in a nutshell.

Last week in preparation for The Boy's birthday I asked him some interview questions that I hope we will repeat each year and see how his answers change. Here they are.

How old are you? 

"Two and a half"

What’s your favorite thing to do? 

"eat pasta"

What do you want to be when you grow up? 

"a powice officifice"

What’s your favorite food? 

"cucumbers and pasta"

What’s something you’re good at? 

"pwaying puzzles"

What makes you laugh? 

"telling joke-es"

What’s something scary?

"a dinosaur or a monster or a witch"

Who’s your best friend? 

"Violette"

What do you like to do with your family? 

"pway outside"

Where do you like to go? 

"to a rocket ship"

What do you like to learn about? 

"poopoo"