Wow, what an eventful day so far! We woke up early, you left us a spooky treat in your diaper overnight, coffee, breakfast, put together a Goblin Goulash in the crock pot, killed your pet fish, messed up a butter cream frosting for our Halloween cake...
What? I know, I was disappointed with the icing too. I must not have brought the simple syrup up to 240 degrees?! Maybe my candy thermometer is broken...
WHAT? Oh. The fish. Right. Son, I am sorry to tell you that on Halloween, 2009, your first pet, Swishy the Fishy, passed on to a better place. Why? Well, son, death is a part of life. All of God's creatures will one day go on to heaven.
What? I know, I was disappointed with the icing too. I must not have brought the simple syrup up to 240 degrees?! Maybe my candy thermometer is broken...
WHAT? Oh. The fish. Right. Son, I am sorry to tell you that on Halloween, 2009, your first pet, Swishy the Fishy, passed on to a better place. Why? Well, son, death is a part of life. All of God's creatures will one day go on to heaven.
Also, he really needed the water in his bowl changed and we may have overfed him. Like, a lot.
Oh Jackson, fishies don't have a very long life expectancy! There was nothing any of us could have done! Except for changing his water more often and feeding him less like we were told.
I guess we should have seen it coming. The real Swisher was benched Game 2 of the World Series. A sign? Maybe. A less clear sign than murky water, but a sign nonetheless. One can only hope that Swishy the Fishy will cast good, heavenly vibes upon us for Game 3 tonight. And one can only hope that you won't ever ask for a fish again, because your father and I are clearly NOT marine biologists.
Oh Jackson, fishies don't have a very long life expectancy! There was nothing any of us could have done! Except for changing his water more often and feeding him less like we were told.
I guess we should have seen it coming. The real Swisher was benched Game 2 of the World Series. A sign? Maybe. A less clear sign than murky water, but a sign nonetheless. One can only hope that Swishy the Fishy will cast good, heavenly vibes upon us for Game 3 tonight. And one can only hope that you won't ever ask for a fish again, because your father and I are clearly NOT marine biologists.
Farewell, Swishy. You were once loved by a boy named Jackson. Happy Halloween. Go Yankees.
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