R.I.P. Sylvie

I don’t usually get mad at my kids. I am often frustrated with their actions or disappointed in their decisions. They make me feel sad on many occasions for a variety of reasons. But very rarely am I truly angry at them. This afternoon, however, I was fuming. And I think I had good reason, because it’s not every day that your child threatens the life of a beloved family pet.

Johnny playing with Sylvie, the goldfish, a few weeks ago

Around this time last year we bought two goldfish. Josie named them “Josie” and “Sylvie,” after herself and her best friend. They’re beautiful pets and by far the lowest maintenance members of the entire household. Josie and Sylvie (the fish, not the kids) spent the last two weeks at a friend’s house while we were in Virginia and this afternoon we picked them up from their fish sitters. In order to move the heavy 25 gallon tank the water has to be drained to about ¼ full, so as soon as we got them home I felt the need to expediently re-fill the tank to relieve the stress of our dear goldfish. I left the tank on its stand in the living room under the supervision of Josie, Jamie, and Johnny while I went into the kitchen to fill a bucket with fresh water. As the water filled the bucket I scrubbed the algae off the two plastic plants and sunken ship décor so that our fish would be welcomed home to a nice, clean environment. A few minutes later, once my bucket had filled, I carried it back into the living room and began to pour the contents into the tank. Jamie was hunched over the tank, watching attentively as the water flowed from bucket to tank. My eyes scanned the bottom of the tank and almost instinctively I knew that something was wrong. There was only one fish!

Where was the other? My gaze darted from place to place, frantically searching all the nearby surfaces hoping to catch a glimpse of bright orange. There. Lifelessly stranded in a small compartment of the dry filter. Jamie had scooped the fish out of the tank and dropped her into the filter. I plopped her fragile little body back into the water as quickly as I could but it sunk to the bottom and rested motionlessly on the rocks.

Red hot anger grew up inside of me. I shouted at Jamie in my most ferocious voice and sent him to his time-out chair. His tears gushed at the severity of my reaction. It all happened so fast that I’m not sure exactly what I said, but I’m pretty sure an explicative escaped from my lips. It took all my will power to resist the urge to throw something against the wall. Jamie stayed in his chair until dinner, more out of my need to calm down than his need for punishment.

Oh Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. This little man is continually finding new ways to push my patience to the brink. Just when I think we might be turning a corner, leaving these terrible twos behind us, he attempts things that only happen in my wildest dreams. I swear, this kid is going to be the death of me…..which is probably the exact thought that dashed through poor Sylvie’s mind as her gills gulped desperately for water in those final moments.

Rest in peace, dear Sylvie. You will be missed.