Because two boys, 1 husband, 2 cats (one very old and who likes to follow me around the house, constantly yelling that I'm just not doing a good enough job and could I please just get it together!) and one snake is not enough fill every waking moment of my day, we have added a fish. A beautiful blue beta fish. Which in my constant state of delusion thought that it would be the easiest of all to take care of: a sprinkle of food and done.

But I was wrong. So wrong.

First I nearly kill it trying to transfer it from the plastic bag to the small bowl, and then nearly kill myself by having a heart attack as I scream at Paul to PICK IT UP, IT'S DYING (because even though I have no problem picking up frozen rat cubs the sight of the gasping fish puts me over the edge) and then he drops it TWICE on the counter before successfully getting it into the bowl.

And then we watch with Jakob in a near panic since it is his Easter present and he has already made me swear that we will not eat it some night for dinner.

Fine.

And finally it starts moving.

Encouraged I decide to feed it the four measly flakes according to instruction - seemingly they like to keep their fish thin - and as I gently tap the package, FWUMP, the bowl is now filled with what looks like brownish bits of paper.

Jakob panics again: IT'S TOO MUCH FOOD, THE FISH IS GOING TO DIE! GET IT OUT, GET IT OUT!

I would like to pretend that this blog is full of exaggeration...but it's not really, Jakob is that dramatic almost every waking moment of the day. I blame his dad.

Now once home from work, my new routine is to sneak upstairs to see if this new little addition to our family is still alive. So far so good and we are now on Day 4 - but the stress is killing me! How am I supposed to keep it alive for 2 more years?

For fun and lack of space, and because Jakob insists on having it in his room, I have the fishbowl beside the snake tank which is making for a very enthusiastic Ember who is now plotting her escape and seldom hides under her log.