Family Pet

The promise of a pet is a grave and serious thing.

I had no clue I became glued to every syllable of every word every time I speak as a parent. For instance, I cannot mention things off-handedly anymore; no commenting on potential activities and certainly no guilt-free wiggle room once these words have been emitted.

Pumpkin's so sure about everything I say; it's as though it's already been done. I can see the nuance of flakiness and doubt start to creep into her world. The words: possibly, maybe, we'll see, if-then, probably, may, might, could, should, would all bring a less than forthright demention into her understanding. Everything's so absolute to her, it either exists or doesn't. This could also explain why I'm about to spend nearly $100 on gear for a fish that will probably survive less than a week. Don't forget the cleaning and the smell and emotional attachment all wrapped up into one sickly little hypo-allergenic pet. This thing doesn't even stand a chance with all the excitement and stress that will ensue.

I'll be darned if I don't give it the old college try, however.