Parental Magic

[Image credit]

Let me tell you a little story about Gary.

Gary was my eldest son’s first pet and he was a Betta fish who lived alone.  Apparently Betta fish have to live alone because they have this nasty little habit of killing each other, but that’s neither here nor there.  My son loved Gary, a lot; more than a child could ever love a fish it seemed.  Gary lived a good life, a good and short life.

I was the one who made the gruesome discovery of Gary’s untimely passing a few years ago.  I didn’t quite know how to break the news to a 4 year old boy that his beloved pet had passed; I guess I hadn’t reached that chapter in the parenting manual yet.  I did the only thing I knew how, I had Big Daddy P dispose of the body right quick while I set a brilliant plan in motion.  Big Daddy P happened to think the truth was as brilliant of a plan as any…but I was pretty sure he was wrong about that.

My son came downstairs for breakfast and grabbed the little container of fish food like he had so many times before.  He headed over to Gary’s bowl and peeked inside, only Gary was nowhere to be found.  With his quivering voice he asked, “Mommy, where’s Gary?”  I couldn’t do it.  I could not tell this child that Gary now swam with the fishes, at least figuratively.  I uttered the first words that spilled out of my mouth, “Um, Gary swam to Las Vegas to visit your Grammy and Poppy!”  He looked confused.  I looked confused.  He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Well, OK.  I know how much they like him.”  Parenting at its finest, score one more for me.

I felt proud for having spared my sweet boy any feelings of despair.  I told Big Daddy P what I had done so we could both be on the same page, and by page I mean lie.  Big Daddy P wasn’t impressed with my obviously awesome parenting and mentioned something about this scenario coming right out of a bad sitcom, but again, I was pretty sure he was wrong about that.  All I knew was that I was working some kind of parental magic and it was working. 


[Image credit] Meet Bill.

In a week’s time, after Gary had a nice visit with Grammy and Poppy, he “reappeared” in his fishbowl.  Much to my son’s delight and confusion, he exclaimed, “Gary’s back! [pause] Um, Mom?  I think I want to change his name to Bill now.”  While this was indeed an interesting turn of events I remained steadfast, “Oh, sure.  Bill, OK then.  Bill it is.”  Pure magic.

Sadly, Bill went on to live a rather abbreviated life.  And to think we went for Betta fish instead of goldfish on account of longevity.  Before I could even suggest another possible “vacation”, Big Daddy P called our son over, pointed to poor deceased Bill (may he rest in peace) and said, “Bill died.  Sorry honey.  Fish die” and that was it.   My son took a long look at Bill, wiped away a little tear and said, “That’s sad.  I guess Gary died too then.” 

So much for parental magic.