She's very tender-hearted

I was a little worried last night before bed. I had just checked on everyone to make sure they were fast asleep when I noticed that Hope's fish was trying to bury her/his head in the sand plastic fish tank rocks and then I thought, wait a minute, that fish is holding a very nice, steady down dog.

Or maybe not.

Yes, Little Fishy (we call him "fishy" because every time you ask Hope she has a different name for him) had gone on to the great big fish tank in the sky. I was sure there would be a waterfall of tears right before the morning school bus. So I tried to give her the news gently but matter-of-fact-style: Uh, you know, Hope, Little Fishy SURE WAS OLD. I think he might have died last night but you know he was really old for a fish and he lived a good, long life and nowhe'sinheavenwithGodandbucketnadedandalltheotherfishesandfamilypetsisn'tthatNICE?

Bracing myself for tears...

Hope said, "You're right. He looks dead. (Pause) Can we go to Pet Smart after school? I think I want to get a blue one this time."