Pet
I took princess to her speech therapy session this morning. We have been working hard on trying to get rid of a slight stutter, so have been attending sessions every month or so to try and control it before she starts school next year. We refer to the stutter as bumps. On the way to her session, I am told “I can’t wait to get some bumps today mummy!” After trying to explain that we are off to get rid of the bumps not to get them, my daughter replies, “Oh, well if I can’t get some bumps, can I get a pet.” Hmmmmm.
The next 5 minutes is spent explaining rental agreements including a no pet clause; I observe my daughter picking her nose in the rear view mirror and take an educated guess that she is not 100% interested in restrictions of any sort. I am interrupted mid-sentence, “I know, I know, I know, not that sort of pet, it can’t have claws.” (That is not her stutter by the way, I checked with the therapist, apparently that is the teenage attitude rearing in my 4 year old. Marvellous. Good times ahead!)
“I would like a bunny, does it have claws?”
“Oh yes darling, very, very sharp claws, ouch. I think bunnies are illegal as pets in Western Australia. I think you can have them in Queensland where Nana and Pa live? Maybe you should ask them to get one that you can play with when you visit? I am sure Nana and Pa would LOVE a pet rabbit!”
I look in the rear view mirror again to see princess staring out the car window tracing the raindrops with her finger. Phew, close call. Obviously this conversation is over.
“What pets don’t have claws, I don’t want to get scratch and hurt.” DAMN!!!! I know sarcasm, children really love sarcasm!?!
“Whales. Giraffes. Maybe we should get an elephant. What about a meerkat? Daddy would love a meerkat!?!”
Response. “No mummy, they are wild animals, not pets!” Seriously. I did not teach her that, is it wrong to be upset at the effectiveness of the state education system.
“We cannot get a pet that needs room to run, we do not have the room so it is not fair on the animal.”
“What pets do not run.”
“A fish.”
“Alright.”
End of conversation.
We had a fabulous therapy session, going back in 6 weeks to check articulation, (ching, ching, goes the monetary sound of our therapists holiday fund), but she has improved immensely and we are all very proud. “You did a great job, hardly any bumps, mummy is so proud of you! Do you want to do something special before we go to get your brother?”
“We can get a fish now.” Hmmmmmmm. What just happened? Did I agree to this?
We now have a fighter fish. (Because they live alone and it is less responsibility for life?) It is purple. It lives in the kitchen. The tank has purple rocks. And we are going to the bed to think about the name. It has to have a name, but apparently we need to think about it. Choices; Arial, Violet, Flappy, Anita, Tinkerbelle, Bubbles, Splash and Fishy. Before bed I catch her saying her farewells.
“Goodnight fish. I love you soooo much, welcome to my family. I will love you forever. See you in the morning. What’s that mummy?” She says as she points towards the defrosting food sitting next to the fish tank.
“That is mummy and daddy’s dinner.”
“What is it?”
Hmmmmmmm.
“What is it?”
“It is fish…..” I whisper.
“No!!!!!!! Don’t eat our pet! He has a new home!”
Thank goodness I did not buy a duck! They don’t have claws, and I love to eat duck…. Awkward!
NOTE: Bunnies are actually legal in WA and illegal in QLD. I’m glad my 4 year old can’t Google.
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