Every few seconds of every minute of every day, one or all of my kids begs to get a pet.
They do not discriminate against the kind of pet. Any pet. Just a pet. A pet to love and take care of. A pet they can clean up after and love and walk and comb. A pet.
I guess the combing and walking part rules out a fish (or one of those scary, hairless, rubbery-skinned cats) though I think they would be quite happy with anything.
Ellie, our seven year old, spends a lot of her time in the shower thinking about the right way to approach us about “operation we need a pet” and last night told me about her new plan.
“Mommy, I have the perfect plan. We need to get a pet. It’s simple. We would take care of the pet, pick up the poop, walk it, bathe it and love it.”
I’m listening.
“All you have to do is DRIVE US TO THE HUMANE SOCIETY TO PICK IT UP!!!”
That’s the best plan I’ve heard in three minutes.
