Something's Fishy by Melinda L. Wentzel
Friends sometimes can be convenient to have around. Particularly those invisible kind that reside in our imagination but always there, close at hand, to take the blame for anything that goes wrong or, more importantly, gets broken. How many parents out there will enjoy the humor in Melinda's imaginary friend encounter?
"Ariel did it."
"Who's Ariel?"
"You know, the Little Mermaid. She wanted to swim with the fishy."
"Oh really."
"Yeah."
"Then who got the dresser and floor all wet?"
"Ariel did that, too. But we helped her. You know what, Mom?"
"What?"
"She sinked to the bottom, so we had to help her swim."
"You know what else, Mom?"
"What?"
"Ariel wanted me to get in the fishbowl too, but I was too big."
This amusing conversation was one I held yesterday with my twin toddlers, Seek and Destroy. Of course, the hideous misdeed that prompted our little chat actually occurred several weeks ago; but I couldn't bear to bring up the subject until I had calmed down enough to speak coherently. Right now I'm seriously struggling to describe (in all its horrid detail) the "fishbowl scene," since I have recently decided to dissociate from everything that I'd rather not remember about raising children. The fishbowl incident most definitely falls into that downright ugly, heaven-help-me-forget category.
Early one evening, my husband and I had crashed on the couch together to savor a rarity-catching a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond without being leapt upon, crawled over or called upon to fetch something by our resident hellions. In fact, we enjoyed the entire episode from start to finish without even a hint of interruption. We soaked up those precious 30 minutes of peace and quiet like there was no tomorrow. (No one ever said we were smart).
We should have suspected something. It was just plain fishy. Had we been on our guard, we would have smelled trouble brewing from afar. Good parents know the rules: Quiet can only mean one of three things-our children are either asleep, away or destroying something valuable.
Finally, we snapped out of dreamland and delved headfirst into nightmare alley. "You go first." "No, you go first." Neither one of us wanted to open our eldest's bedroom door to witness the mother of all messes which surely awaited us. Ultimately, we agreed it was best to catch the hooligans red-handed while they were busy carrying out their dastardly deed. So we stopped arguing about who would enter first and just went in with the idea of apprehending the guilty parties together. And catch them we did. But not a minute too soon. The poor fish was frantically circling the bowl in a swim for his life, amidst giant swirls, tidal waves and a larger-than-life-sized mermaid. Never mind the cat, who sat patiently below-waiting for his turn to torment the victim; Seek and Destroy were trouble enough.
What's amazing is that I could SEE the fish at all. Clouds of multi-colored pebbles and fish gunk swirled around and around like dust, following the path of the whirlpool that had been created. Plants had been totally uprooted and floated on the surface like slimy, green surfboards. No doubt, the fish wouldn't have known his dorsal fin from his tail since visibility was very near 0%. I'd bet the house he was dizzy, too.
A thin coating of water covered the entire dresser top and had dripped off the edges, forming tiny pools on the carpet below. Evidence of sloshing and splashing was everywhere to be found. Walls and trinkets had been splattered, nearby furniture sprinkled and the cloth beneath the bowl itself was completely soaked to its core. Naturally, the villains were far from dry as well. And as expected, they denied all involvement, failing to realize their soggy shirts and drippy elbows might implicate them.
Enter the scapegoat: Ariel. As we pulled her from the watery depths, Seek and Destroy were quick to lay blame, stumbling over each other to explain what the mermaid had been doing all along. Surprisingly, a large body of evidence did point in her direction. But she pled the Fifth and we were forced to wait until she obtained adequate legal representation. Not.
Like any good parents, we doled out fair and reasonable punishment to the true culprits, and explained that the fishbowl was off-limits-even if the fish needed a hug. Yes, they tried that tack, too.
About This Story's Author:
Melinda L. Wentzel, aka Planet Mom, is a freelance writer and slice-of-life newspaper columnist. Her primary aim is to unearth the humor contained within everyday life experiences-especially those related to parenting teens and preschoolers. She and her husband reside in Williamsport, PA where they are raising their three daughters (ages 18, 5 and 5).
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