Last night, Owen tipped over the fish tank. Yes, the Admiral and Wanda (those are the names of our two fan-tail goldfish) went flying with all 5 gallons of water cascading behind them. They were flopping all over the living room rug, and there was Owen just standing there with a "what happened to the fishies?" toddler-ish look on his face.
I quickly scooped up both fish in my hand, and as I got up to run them to the kitchen sink for water, my feet slipped out from underneath me (keep in mind the floor is wet) and I biffed it hard onto the laminate floor. I think I looked like a drunken college kid, and waited for Jesse to laugh at me, but no laugh came. Instead he shouted, "Brooke! Are you okay?!" and had a look of pure terror on his face. I must have hit the floor harder than I thought. I was in too big of hurry to save the fish than to worry about my own injuries though. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured the fish in so they could breathe again. Then we spent the next hour cleaning fish goo-ies off of everything with anti-bacterial cleaner and mops.
This morning revealed a lot more to my fall though..... I think I sprained my big toe! I'm serious! I can't bend it today. But the Admiral and Wanda are alive and well, so I guess it was worth a sacrificial toe, right?
So the current injury status at our house is as follows: One gimpy husband with a bum knee, one toe-sprained wife, one mischevious toddler who's stronger than we thought, and two carpet-burned goldfish. (Oh, and one cute baby who just smiled and laughed as he watched mom and dad during all the action.)
I quickly scooped up both fish in my hand, and as I got up to run them to the kitchen sink for water, my feet slipped out from underneath me (keep in mind the floor is wet) and I biffed it hard onto the laminate floor. I think I looked like a drunken college kid, and waited for Jesse to laugh at me, but no laugh came. Instead he shouted, "Brooke! Are you okay?!" and had a look of pure terror on his face. I must have hit the floor harder than I thought. I was in too big of hurry to save the fish than to worry about my own injuries though. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured the fish in so they could breathe again. Then we spent the next hour cleaning fish goo-ies off of everything with anti-bacterial cleaner and mops.
This morning revealed a lot more to my fall though..... I think I sprained my big toe! I'm serious! I can't bend it today. But the Admiral and Wanda are alive and well, so I guess it was worth a sacrificial toe, right?
So the current injury status at our house is as follows: One gimpy husband with a bum knee, one toe-sprained wife, one mischevious toddler who's stronger than we thought, and two carpet-burned goldfish. (Oh, and one cute baby who just smiled and laughed as he watched mom and dad during all the action.)
Moral of the story: Don't buy a two-year old goldfish, no matter how much he likes Finding Nemo.
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