I Dumped the Sea Monkeys on My Head

September 28, 2007

Here's the burning question. If your mother walked up to you in the hall of your home, and said, "I dumped the sea monkeys on my head" would you have her committed?

That happened to me moments ago, and I'm going to hold off signing my mom's commitment papers for now. If she were locked away, I would have no one to clean Erin's BioSphere aquarium. Erin can't really keep the gourami tank clean herself, because it would require her to touch fish gunk that could contain bacteria or fungus (a no no for an immuno-compromised girl). Touching fish gunk is not high on my list either, and you can't get Walter to touch fish gunk with a ten-foot pole. Moo (that's my mom) to the rescue. For Erin, she's willing to siphon the tank, scrub the rocks, wipe layers of brown yuk off the glass, recondition the water, and so on. It was not really her fault that while she was down on her hands and knees scouring, she knocked the other tank on the table over. That would be the tank where Erin was growing sea monkeys. That would be the tank that fell over onto her head. Rather than rushing home to wash out the sea monkeys, she calmly finished the job, rationalizing, no doubt, that high-protein sea monkeys might do wonders for her "do."

Will Erin miss the sea monkeys? Maybe, but given that she has begged for days for someone to clean Bill and Sue's tank--even leaving bold notes taped to the kitchen counter, the bathroom mirror, the piano bench, her pillow, and the sofa--pleading their case, I don't think she'll be that upset. I suspect she'll use it as an opportunity to make a new potion: Sea Monkey Creme Rinse.

ADDENDUM: When Erin came home from school, Moo ask me if I had told her what happened. I said no. Erin asked, "What happened to what?"

Moo: "The sea monkeys."

Erin looked and noticed they were gone: "Where are they?"

Moo: "In my hair."

Erin started laughing and fell on the floor: "Have you showered?"

Moo: "Not yet. Do you want them?"