We are currently fishsitting for our dear friends, who are enjoying some end-of-summer beachfront r&r. This particular little swimmer is a reddish Beta--the kind you can buy at Linens And Things in a big planter-slash-bowl to accent your dining room table. Not that I get that; animal as centerpiece seems pretty self-absorbed even to my non-PETA member mentality.
Anyhow, this guy is named Potty Fish. Dear friend J. bought him out of desperation as she was trying to entice her toddler to spend a little more time putting the peepee in the appropriate room instead of his drawers. I think she read about the idea online: FISH + BATHROOM= POTTY TRAINED CHILD. I suppose this isn't that far from the idea of using a fish as a decoration, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures. I really don't remember how effective the idea was, but I know for a fact that the child in question is 3.5 now and hasn't worn diapers in quite a while. Maybe it was the fish. Maybe it wasn't. At any rate, the fish is now known to one and all as Potty Fish.
Potty Fish is currently reigning over our combo living room/dining room/kitchen area from his perch on a high counter. The kids have gotten a huge kick out of him, despite the fact that our home boasts one 120 lb. German Shepherd and not one, but two mini rex rabbits. If you ask me, any one of those animals are waaay more entertaining than Potty Fish. I mean, all Potty Fish does is hang out in his little plastic bowl and ... well, tread water. How much fun is that?
A lot, apparently.
This morning, I called my mother to offer her belated birthday wishes. (I tried to call her twice yesterday, but she was out.) The kids gathered round and did their best rendition of both "Happy Birthday" and our preferred family favorite, "Birthday" by the Beatles. Afterward, Logan asked to talk to Oma. I walked away--never a good thing--and came back a few minutes later to this exchange:
"Potty Fish. Yeah, Potty Fish. ... He swims in ... something. ...I don't know. .... It's ... pee maybe? Maybe that's why he's Potty Fish?"
Yes, I explained the moniker to my mother. And yes, she knew that the fish wasn't sloshing around in a bowl of urine. Whether or not Logan actually thought that or not I guess should be sorted out before he applies to a college biology program.
So be careful what you name your pets, folks. Stick to Nemo and Peanut and Prince. Don't venture off into uncharted territory. Let Potty Fish be a lesson to us all.