We adopted two new pets today. Goldfish. From our neighbor. She won them at the fair but was willing to part with them. We were happy to become their new owners. But before we did, they died. Because she had already promised them to Evan, however, she went to Petco and bought us two new ones. It was just about the sweetest 26 cents ever spent.
This is not our first Pet Experience. We do, of course, have Moose, our chocolate lab. But he was part of Sam's family long before the boys were around, and before me, even. So these two goldfish were the first pets that Evan had the opportunity to name. We threw him a bunch of options and ideas to get the creative naming juices flowing: "How about Bubbles?" "Sir Swims-a-lot?" "Fishy?"
After much deliberation:
I would like to introduce you to: Sharky (with the black on its tail) and Training Pants.
I swear I am not making this up. I don't even know where he got the phrase "training pants." It's not like we use that term in this house. We don't even HAVE training pants in our house. (We still use diapers at night--I know, I know.) I really don't know where he heard it, and when I asked, his response was, "You know: training pants. Like training wheels but pants."
We tried to convince him to choose a more conventional fish name: Goldy? Swimmy? But Training Pants it was because, "When someone gives you a pet as a present you get to pick the name." Makes sense.
Max likes them, too. In fact, I'm pretty sure "fishy" was his first word. We were at the library last Monday and, as we were approaching the fish tank he started to say, "Shishy! Shishy!" I looked at him and said, "Fishy?" and he got all excited. What a smart baby.
Turns out I AM a pet person. Just not a hairy, licky, slobbery, shedding, 90-lb. pet person.