I'm not dead yet -- I'm getting better!

No, no one here is sick. Well, Xavier is (again) -- it looks like the "no sniffy nose/cough" rule at school is not being enforced like it should -- but in the grand scheme of things, it is not too bad a cough.

No, the other night when Xavier went to feed his fish, I stopped him because I noticed the fish looked strangely ... inactive. I shook the bowl a few times, but it continued to float at the bottom of the bowl.

Xavier started to tear up. "Is my fish dead?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied. "I think so, but let's give him a few, see if he recovers." Really, what I was trying to do was get Xavier in bed so I could get rid of the fish discreetly. Still, Xavier continued to be tearful, red-eyed, sniffly, and coughy, and I tried to reassure him. Gwen, realizing that there might be a dead fish in the family also dissolved into tears.

"Mom," Xavier said at last. "If my fish is dead, can I get legos instead of a new fish?"

"Ummm, I guess so," I replied. "But he might not be dead yet."

"Can I get space police legos?"

"Uh, sure. If your fish is dead."

"Maybe Harry Potter legos would be better."

"Well you'll have to think about it," I said, as I turned out the light.

I went from the bedroom to the bathroom to dispose of the fish, and found him swimming slowly around the bowl. I'm not one to hasten someone to the great beyond, so I could not bring myself to "flush the fish." Instead, I went back to the kids' room.

"Xavier, your fish isn't dead," I said. "He's swimming around. He might be fine tomorrow."

"Maybe," he replied. "But he'll probably be dead."

I privately agreed, but did not say so. Not wanting the kids to start a school day with the spector of a dead fish, I went into their bathroom the next morning to dispose of the evidence, only to find the fish zipping around the bowl like he was at the Indy 500. I tossed some food in, which he ate voraciously, then breathed a silent sigh of relief that he seemed to be just fine.

When Xavier got up, I said, "Good news, son! The fish is alive and well!"

"Oh," Xavier responded disappointedly. Then, as if realizing that did not sound very good, he added with a little more enthusiasm, "Really?"


Xavier has joined the ranks of the cub scouts. When he announced he wanted to do this, I was surprised at the vehemence of Adam's response against it. He went on a tirade on how much he hated the scouts, and what a waste of time it was, what an ordeal it was, and how only a complete idiot would join the scouts. I was a little stunned in the onslaught of his negative response -- I mean it wasn't like Xavier was lobbying to join the local Satanist church or the Young Republicans.

Xavier, being relatively sharp despite what people think, put the kibosh on the topic, but when I was putting him to bed, he whispered to me, "But, Mom, I really wanted to join the scouts."

"I know, Xav. I'll take care of it."

Saying good night, I immediately went downstairs and said, "You know, Adam, we really ought to let him give the scouts a try."

Adam sighed. "I guess so ... I just wish he could learn from my mistakes."

That cracked me up, on two levels:
1. Xavier has a very different personality from Adam. I pointed this out to Adam, then added, "It may not be a mistake for him."

2. Gwen, on the other hand, has a very similar personality to mine, and despite my best efforts, she refuses to learn from my mistakes.

Anyway, I felt the first mistake coming on when I went to the scouting info session, and along with Xavier's sign up form, they handed me the popcorn fundraiser forms. So ... if you want to order Boy Scout popcorn from Xavier, shoot me an email. If you don't, well, I'm kind of resigned to join the popcorn assault team at Kroger later this month rather than seek out donations door-to-door anyway.