A Not-So-Great Parenting Moment

Yesterday was a sad day at our house. It started something like this:

Just before my husband took the kids to school, he pulls me aside and covertly says, “The hamster died. You’ll have to get rid of it before she gets home.”

“What do you mean get rid of it”

“Just throw it in the trash and clean out the cage.” An Aside -He’s not really that cold and heartless, he just wasn’t thinking that clearly.

So, I solemnly opened the office door (the room that I had transferred the cage into the night before when the exercise-wheeling hamster was keeping my daughter awake) and peered into the cage.
Yup, the hamster was indeed dead, but, thankfully, it looked peaceful.
I began to look around the house for a proper burial box, but couldn’t find anything suitable. My idea was to go to CVS and get a gift box.

When my husband stopped home around lunchtime, he asked why there was a dead hamster still hanging around in the house.

“I thought that when M got home she might want to bury it and I haven’t been able to find a suitable box.”

“We don’t have any boxes?”

“Well, I thought I’d get a nice gift box from CVS”

To that, my husband says, “It’s not really a gift. Remember? It’s DEAD. This box will do:

Here lies TuTu, our beloved pet.

Trick or Treat

Life was so much easier when I got to choose the costumes that the twins wore on Halloween. At least I picked things that went together: M&Ms, Pooh & Tigger, Magenta & Blue from Blue’s Clues, or a firefighter & a kitty cat.

This year, a baby (after talking her out of being a nearly 5 foot tall pink poodle!) and a scary-faced, Pagan pentacle-wearing gatekeeper thing!
But, alas, although they strive to be individuals and do their own thing, when only one wanted to go trolling for candy, at each neighbor’s house her obligatory “Trick or Treat” was always met with “Where’s your brother?”