Kids and Pets

Bought the kids some fish today. But it took us going to two different PetCos. Because at the first one I was told that unless I put them in an aerated tank the store would refuse to sell me the fish.

"Seriously?" I asked? "Even the 99 cent sale fish?"

"Yes, ma'am" she said. "it's for the safety of the animals."

"But these are the fish I always had growing up." I kept trying. "I want my kids to have the same experience. And I just want the simple fish bowl deal."

"Nope" she insisted. "They'll die in a bowl." (well, duh!) "We can't sell them to you unless you guarantee they're going in a tank."

"What about the 15 Cent feeder fish?" I'm thinking they cant refuse me these, right? Wrong. Even the one slated for death apparently required a tank with temp control and air bubbles!

"Ok" I said. And left, heading for the next PetCo.

This time, I just asked for the fish and provided no details.

Success.

Oh but did I mention that two minutes after getting the fish out of the bag, Micky pulled his bowl down, the water splashed everywhere, and the fish slid effortlessly down the air vent?

I pulled them out and tossed them back in the bowl . . . Guess well see how tough these little guys are.

P.S.  Of course, we ran across Leo - the most amazing, gentle, lovable shelter mix up for adoption . . .

What's a girl to do? :)

UPDATE (2/28/12):  Leo was adopted by another family.  Probably a good thing.  I decided it's just not the right time for our family to have a dog.  We also bought Beta fish instead of the goldfish.  (Sorry fish lovers, the Petco lady was right and they died within a few days in our bowls.)  The Betas, however, are FLOURISHING!  =)

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Guinea Pigs – An Unlikely Lesson on Marital Roles and Responsibilities

Renton reading his book about Guinea Pigs

Renton, my oldest, has always has a unique perspective on life. From asking Santa, at 4 years old, to make him Chinese for Christmas, to one day announcing, at 5 years old, that “Europe and Asia are like plants in a garden that have grown intertwined with weeds and are now almost impossible to separate.”  Renton is fascinated by relationships between things, especially people.

Last week, he brought home a new reading book from school.  This book is all about animals, and that night’s homework was a reading on keeping Guinea Pigs as pets.  Renton really wants to have a pet.  We already have a few things going on in our lives (sarcasm here) so I’ve told him that he may have to wait until he is grown up and living on his own to have one.  He was only too happy to read this passage to me and demonstrate how much he alreday knew about keeping pets.

The last section of the reading was entitled, “If you want to have a happy, healthy Guinea Pig, follow these steps:”

Renton proudly read aloud:

“Step 1: Feed your guinea pig twice a day."

"Step 2: Pick up the food after 15 minutes."

Renton stopped at this point, looked up at me, and serious as could be asked me, “Why would I do all this work?  I’d just get my wife to do it.”

My mouth quite literally dropped open.  I just looked at him, trying to gauge if he was being serious.  Renton just looked at me.  Apparently he was seriously waiting for an answer.

Oh boy.

The first answer that popped into my head was actually a question, “Renton, do I do all the work around the house?”  But I stopped myself before asking because, of course, the answer would have been “yes, mom, you do.” Because, well, I’m a single mom. 

Crap. 

How do I answer this question in a supportive, directive way, expressing the importance of equality and mutual respect in a marital relationship, and provide real-life examples given our present “parental situation.”

Okay, let’s try this tack, “Renton, if Mommy gets married again, do you think I will do all the work around the house?”

This one stumped Renton for a minute.  “Well . . . . “ I could see the wheels turning in his head as he honestly gave this some thought.

“Well . . . if I am working, who would take care of the Guinea Pig?”

I followed with another question, “What if your wife works, too, Renton?”

“Hmmm . . .”  More thinking on his part.

“I guess I would need to leave her some notes for a while until she got the hang of it.”

Ugh.  This wasn’t getting any better.  And this last comment actually almost made me sick in my stomach.  Where was Renton getting these ideas from?  Did he feel like marriages should be like this and maybe because his father’s and mine wasn’t that was what caused the divorce?  Or was this just the simple, blank-and-white thinking of a second grader?  There didn’t seem to be any malice attached to his comments or thinking, it just seemed like the practical answer to him.

Finally, I decided to take a more direct tack, “Renton, when you get married, you and your wife will share a lot of responsibilities.  You will have to talk to each other and figure out who is going to do what.  You can’t just assume that your wife will WANT to take care of your Guinea Pig.  And you will want to talk to her about it, not leave her notes.”

Renton looked down at his book for a few minutes, then looked back up at me.

“Okay.  She can work and I will stay home and take care of the Guinea Pig.”

If only life and relationships were this simple. 

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