Seraphim's fourth birthday is only nine days away. We are, of course, having a birthday party with all of her friends and our house is going to look like Hasboro came in and vomited My Little Pony crap all over our family room!
Last year for her birthday we had a small party with just a few people in attendance, one of which was Doug and Jess' roommate, Emily. Seraphim loved Emily, loved hanging out with Emily, loved playing with Emily... just generally loved all things Emily (Emily, moved back to Denver, PLEASE!!!) Anyway, Emily came to Seraphim's 3rd birthday party and the gifts she brought were a gigantic mylar balloon that sang Happy Birthday in Spanish when you smacked the crap out of it and a fish. That's right, you read that correctly, a fish. Marlin joined our family that fateful day and, surprise, surprise, I'm the one feeding him and cleaning out his G.D. bowl.
Lately, I've been trying to kill Marlin. I know it sounds harsh, but his life with us has got to be misery and, well, I generally hate taking care of the stupid thing. We tried to get Seraphim to feed him everyday after she ate breakfast, but he started eating too much and his bowl got SUPER gross.
Last night Brian, Seraphim and I were watching the Westminster Dog Show, I know, we're total geeks, but, like I said to Brian, it's like dog shopping without leaving the house! As we're watching, Seraphim is telling us which dogs she likes and why. At one point she tells us that she would like to get a dog but, "we're not allowed to have a dog here." I told her that of course we could have a dog here, this is our house and that we don't have one because we just haven't gotten one. I admit, that was a mistake, because after I said that she raced over to the kitchen where Marlin's bowl is and back over to the couch and said,
"Mom! Maybe if my fish dies we can get a dog!"
Sorry, Marlin, it looks like your days are numbered...
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