Dead fish walking, er, swimming

We had to head to the pet store to buy dog food today. I was feeling all June Cleaver, so I let the kids wander through the entire store checking out all the animals. They went excitedly from the birds to the reptiles, where Logan said "turtle" for the first time. It was borderline magical. (Yeah, at Petsmart. I know.)

Then, we headed to the fish section. I was doing great will power wise until we passed a display with 5 gallon tanks on sale. I wavered slightly, but pressed on, determined to not buy anything. Then it happened. We got to the feeder fish tanks.

It's easy to resist buying fish that are 5, 10, or 50 bucks a pop. But twelve cents a piece? Looking at them swimming around in that tank, ignorant of their impending doom, I cracked. For twelve cents a piece I could buy freedom. I felt vaguely like Schindler. We bought 5, and a cleaner fish. So for less than a cup of coffee at Starbucks, these fish will live the rest of their days in a tank, loved by my kids, instead of being a meal for Sharky.

I let the kids name them. Logan "named" his Pish. It's what he said when looking at them, so we went with it. Lindsay named 3 of them: Answer, Man, and Anchor. Ryan named one Jane, and I was allowed to name the last one. I chose Comet, after my first goldfish as a kid.

I'll get a picture later of the pardoned.