One Fish, Two, Mom Fish, Cave Fish

Ever since B could walk, she has loved to go visit the neighborhood fish. A sweet little routine, she begs to walk outside, squeals when the front door opens, runs down the street, and claps with unbridled enthusiasm when she sees him. It is the highlight of her morning, every morning.

This is the neighborhood fish, the very cornerstone of my sweet girl's daily nature exposure:

Mom fail. 

Bless it, y'all, this can not be B's idea of wildlife. I knew there would be some childhood differences in her Suburban Atlanta childhood vs. our small town upbringings, but this is too much.

So, mommy guilt in full effect, RB and I began to discuss getting B a Beta fish. One little Beta fish to float around her room providing the toddler endless joy while becoming another monthly chore for us. Switch out the air vents: check. Secretly replace B's dead fish before she notices: check.

I know nothing about fish. We were dog people growing up, and no other pets were ever needed. My experience with Beta fish is based mostly on giving them as sorority gifts. Betas for the Gamma Phi Betas. I am sure there were some monogrammed tanks/ vases we found in our parents basements involved as well. Other than that, I know nothing. RB assured me Betas were easy to care for and would take up minimal space. I wouldn't even notice it was here, he promised.

So, on this Sunday Funday we headed to Pet Smart for a quick in and out. We had a million errands to run and I estimated this would take 15 minutes, max. After all, how long can it take to buy a glass bowl, some rocks, and ONE teeny, tiny fish?

Forty-five minutes later and we left with me in a daze. I can't even begin to understand what happened. I know it started with this:

Dis, Momma, dis!

And continued with this:

That would be B, freaking out about the quick, colorful, energetic fish in the back of Pet Smart. She sprinted right by the rows of Betas (helpfully half off, B!), not even noticing they existed. She saw the non-Beta tanks and made a beeline for them, showing a level of enthusiasm not shown since the first time she had cheese dip.
Attempts to distract her were fruitless. Usually in situations like this we employ the "scoop and stop" method of child rearing. Scoop the child and drag her to the nearest distraction until she stops remembering that she was focused on something previously.

Every attempt today, though, hit a brick wall named RB:
 "You know... the real tanks are on sale. It is probably just the same as buying the beta stuff." (It wasn't.)
"B seems to really, really love those quick ones." (She does. But she also has the attention span of a two year old ... so, you know).
 "The light in the big tank can serve as a nightlight."
(I didn't even fight this one, I was so overwhelmed by the fish free for all invading my house I saw as inevitable at this point.)
"These fish eat the algae and clean the tank by themselves. We pretty much don't have to do a thing." (We didn't even buy that kind.)

And then, before I knew it, because I am admittedly a weakling against the combined zeal of B and RB, in a total out of body experience I watched the helpful, oh-so perky Pet Smart attendant (Fish are great! Once you have one tank, you will want to fill your house! Can I interest you in an additional plant for your tank?) fill a glorified Ziploc bag with our four new pets. B was beside herself with excitement. RB couldn't stop smiling. I was trying to do the math in my head of how one small bowl and one small fish suddenly becomes a 5.5 gallon tank with four inhabitants.

We were barely back to the house before the dynamic duo was setting everything up, busy at their new task.

Note to self, it is much more efficient to put together a fish tank if you aren't being helped by a toddler who feels the need to immediately take out every aquarium pebble you put in, the instant you put it in the tank.

If you add pebbles at a bag a minute, and I remove them at a scoop every 10 seconds, how long until we all go insane?

And before long, it was all set up, adding a little more pink and princess to an already pretty pink room. Because, of course, of all the tank accessories the little one could select, she flocked to the pink castle and magic carriage.

Excellent, excellent. Do my bidding, Daddy.

Despite having spent most of the evening clapping her hands and cheering for her new roomies, names have yet to be decided. I suggested Blush, Bashful, Pink, and Pinky. B countered with Doggy, Doggy, Cheese, and Doggy. We seem to be at an impasse.

I am sure eventually names will be agreed upon... because you are supposed to name fish, right? That's a thing, I am sure.

For now, she is in Heaven watching her "ishies" swim. RB is in Heaven plotting his next move with his sidekick, deciding what part of our lives they will change next, overruling me with their votes. And I am just happy they are both happy. Life is short, especially if you are a fish. Might as well make it a fun one.

I thought about putting her in a smocked fish dress for this picture. I came to my senses.