One fish, two fish, flush the blue fish

We've had a death in the family. Bluebell only lived in our house for two weeks, but he sure made a splash. Caroline had wanted her own betta fish for a long time. She wanted it to live in her room, her own pet. To earn this fish, she had to prove that she could keep her room clean. The choosing of the bowl, the spot in her room - she approached it all like an HGTV designer.

I hear her shouting tonight that Bluebell is not in his bowl. I'm the first to spot the corpse - stuck to the side of her dresser. She begs me to put the stiff fish back in the bowl "to see if he will swim again." You see, this past week, a friend had told her that betta fish can jump out out of their bowls and still survive. As she is reminding me of this story, I start sniffing out clues that stink of conspiracy. I notice that a stool is pulled over to her dresser. Hmmm..... I realize that Bluebell would be wearing Olympic gold if he had been able to ski jump over two picture frames and land on the side of the dresser. Hmmm........Then, I realize that my 4-year old has disappeared. Hmmm...... As Bart tends to our grieving daughter, I go hunt down my suspect. I find him crouched in a corner in his bedroom. Drawing on almost 10 years of Mom experience, I planned my interrogation. Instead of "Did you take Bluebell out of his bowl" I start with "How did Bluebell feel?" He answered "Slippery." Gotcha!!! To close my short investigation, I asked "Why didn't you put him back in his bowl?" The answer, "he was flipping around too much." Case closed.

So Bart and I have agreed that it is better for all parties involved in the case to never mention the truth. To let sleeping dogs lie. To let a jumping fish rest in peace. Bluebell has taken the truth to his grave (the toilet).