A Fish Funeral

Our family had a little fishie funeral tonight. Lila's dear beta, Snowflake, finally succumbed to whatever was ailing her. Many tears were shed. We laid her to rest in a small jewelry box, tied up with a golden ribbon. We gathered around the hole (lovingly dug by Dad, right next to Hurley's resting place) and said our last good-byes by the light of a camping lantern. This priceless conversation followed:

Doug: "Lila, do you want to say anything about Snowflake? That's what people sometimes do... when they bury a pet."

Lila: "No."
Me: "We could tell stories about her. Like the other day when she tried to jump out of her tank!"
[silence, then]
Lila: "She used to like to play hide-and-seek with us."
[Renee had to bury her face here, to hide a laugh.]
Eli: "Yeah, but now she can't. 'Cause she died."
Lila: "Yeah. . . . Can I get a beta baby now?"
Me: "Let's finish saying good-bye to Snowflake before we start planning her replacement."

Later, after we had come back inside, I was getting some pre-bed snuggles from Eli. He was thoughtfully twisting my hair when he said, quietly, "It's actuwy kinda sad."

Yes, baby. Death is kinda sad. Even when it's only a fish.