3 little fishies

We have 3 fishies in our house. One is technically more of a mermaid, but I call her my little fishy so I am going to include her in this post.

So, we'll start with my cute little fishy/mermaid, lounging in her clawfoot tub.
As you will see in the photo below, she is playing with bathtub paints. I do not understand the concept of bathtub paints. Why? Why give kids something to smear all over themselves, and expect them to know the difference between soap "paint" and REAL paint? When I was a kid, bathtime was for getting clean. Paint was not involved. There was water and soap. And a bottle of the golden-colored Johnson and Johnson "No More Tears" baby shampoo. Sometimes, on a special occasion, bubbles. But that was very rare.

Now, there are entire AISLES of bathtub toys. Special soaps, with bottles in the shape of cartoon characters and different scents and colors. That classic J&J baby shampoo is positively anemic - no more glowing sunflower gold tones, now it is a sort of pale lemon. And it has been joined by a whole bunch of other options for shampoos, conditioners, sprays, oils and lotions.

So here is my little fish, whiling away an hour or two in the tub, with all manner of toys, soaps, conditioners, and paint. Apparently. I cannot say for sure if she comes out cleaner then she went in, but I get some peace and quiet every evening, and that is worth it's weight in non-golden baby shampoo.



And then there's fishy #2: Alice. Alice is the goldfish that we won at the fair in April. She's still hanging in there. I have no idea how or why, because she seems totally traumatized and completely depressed. She used to spend every minute staring into the corner of her fish bowl (which is technically a cube and not bowl-like at all, but whatever. Fishbowl.) Anyway, for the past 2 months we have been very concerned about poor old Alice. She was a real downer. She would stare at me from the corner of her bowl, obviously trying to send me some sort of telepathic message about how much her life sucked and how mean I was. It was a total and complete mindfuck, and very distracting. We thought maybe she needed a toy, or a castle or something to make her life more interesting. You know, add some PIZAZZ. So I made a late-night, post-cocktail run to Walmart with some girlfriends, and we came home with this little number. She loves it. Obviously. Who wouldn't.



And while she did really seem to like her new hiding spot, she still seemed unhappy. So we thought maybe she needed a friend. And that leads me to fishy number 3.



Meet Tony Stark. In case you are wondering how he got such a distinguished name, I will give full credit to my son, who named his new fish after Ironman's alter-ego. Lucy is really hoping that Ironman and Alice are going to be a family and have babies. I am just hoping they don't kill each other.

As you can see, Tony has an issue with his bowels. He has been in that container for less then a minute, and he has shit all over the place. He and Alice are going to get along FAMOUSLY I can tell.