To create chaos, just add water... and fish

It was something that happened many years ago, although it still seems like it happened just yesterday. I remember how it was supposed to be a simple night out with the family: We go to the school carnival, I help run the PTA booths, my girls play some games (and beg me for money to play some more), and then we go home. Simple.

Yeah, right.

Life was good as I strolled down the hall to meet up with the family. My oldest daughter spotted me first and came barreling down the hall with the speed of an NFL linebacker. Clenched in her right hand was a clear plastic bag filled with water … and a goldfish.

Oh, great.

I figured I could talk her out of taking it home. After all, we already had cats, and the girls were quite content with them. But, being a clever child, she had already plotted how to force me to say yes.

“Hi, Dad. My friend won him for me. Isn’t he neat?” Nichole said as she beamed proudly from ear to ear.

I sighed to myself and rolled my eyes saying, “Oh Lord, why me?”

Then my wife and the other two munchkins greeted me. My youngest daughter, Kristen, was also holding a plastic bag with another fish. She smiled and flashed her big Bambi eyes at me. There’s no defense against the Bambi eyes, dang it.

“Daaaad,” my daughter spouted off. “His name is Lucky. I’m going to take him home. I’m going to give him lots ‘a water, an’ lots ‘a food, an’ I’m going to give him lots ‘a love.”

Great. She’d already named it. She’d baited me hook, line and …

… I can’t believe I almost said that.

I looked in the bag, and the goldfish stared at me with his unblinking eyes. I swear I heard him say, “Help me. Help me,” in his tinny voice. In fish language, that probably translates to, “Hey, bub. Just don’t get me killed, okay?”

Not wanting to create a scene in a packed school gymnasium, I quickly caved in, and our family quickly grew by two. At home, the girls chatted at great length about their fish. Their excitement and joy levels were pegged. Meanwhile, my wife and I were taking a crash course in “Tropical Fish 101,” A.K.A., “How to Avoid Killing Fish.”

Food and a bowl seemed like logical places to start. Our neighbor was kind enough to loan us a few fish flakes to keep the girls’ new best friends alive through the night.

But the simple, plastic bowl Nichole scrounged up just wasn’t cutting it for my wife, who was now just as excited as the girls over their catch. A late-evening trip to the local department store netted us a respectable bowl, gravel, food … and three more fish.

Wait a minute! This wasn’t part of the bargain. But I’d already lost the battle. I shrugged my shoulders and hoped for the best.

Lucky was our first casualty, proving that it’s not a good idea to tempt fate by naming a pet in this fashion. Kristen took the bad news hard as she held back her tears and toted her fallen friend around the house in the plastic bag he originally came in.

By now, I was determined to give it a go. If we were going to have fish, by God, they were going to live AND like it. So I plunked down some more dollars for a respectable aquarium, some simple plants and a miniature Japanese-style home for them to hide in and make us wonder where they all went.

As we waited for the aquarium to be properly prepared to accept its new brethren (pet experts recommend allowing between 24 hours to seven days before putting fish in a tank) the bad news kept coming. After Lucky, we lost Nate followed by Oscar and Fatso. We continued to go back to the pet store for replacements and reinforcements for good measure. Within three days, we went from two fish to 10 – the limit for a 10-gallon tank.

One comforting thing about losing a couple of fish is the shock and sadness quickly fades. Kristen went from “Daaaad, my fishy died,” one day to “Dad, Mom’s fish died. You know, the fat one.”

So much for tact.

Although I was firmly against fish that memorable evening so many years ago, that moment in time helped change me. It’s not because I suddenly love fish. It’s because this experience helped my family grow closer together.

There were times when we’d gather around the soft radiance of the aquarium lights and watch our fish dart to and fro.

Ah, life was good once again. We had a new routine established, and there was peace in the family.

I’m just glad my daughters didn’t figure out how to win a pony at the school carnival the following year.