I already blogged about the death of my daughter’s pet
hamster.  I just want to add a couple of

  • The
    experience provided Tigger with an excellent lesson in Reality 101.  Life is fragile and subject to change
    without notice.  And a dead animal
    is really, really dead.  We did talk
    about the Rainbow
    , and how
    Cookie would be waiting for her there when the time came (and it is a very
    comforting thought to someone devastated by loss), but she’s not expecting
    him to come knocking at the door.
  • Equally
    importantly, Tigger learned just how cool her friends could be.  When she returned to school last week,
    not one, not two, but three of her friends offered to buy her a new
    hamster.  And today two of her best
    pals came over and helped her make a headstone for Cookie’s grave.  They used a garden step-stone kit
    someone gave me years ago.  TGeek
    helped them mix and pour the cement, and they did the design work.  It includes Cookie’s name (with buttons
    for the o’s) his life span (2005-2006), and a smiling hamster face.  It’s a work of art.

Certain grandmothers were wondering how Little Bit’s
birthday bash went on Saturday.  Let me
assure you it was the social event of the season! 

The pool is run by surly teenagers who seemed to resent
every aspect of their jobs, from pulling tables out of a closet for us to
stashing our ice cream in the freezer, a task which required locating a
key.  Why do they lock the freezer?  Perhaps I don’t want to know. 

Nevertheless, more than 20 small children splashed happily
about while some parents (mostly moms) watched from the bench, and other
parents (mostly dads) got in the water with them.  I have noticed that when some weekend-thing
parents would rather not do, like get in a pool with 20+ small children, must
be done, usually the dads are conscripted to fill the job.  I believe this is because in many families
the moms do way way way more kid-tending activities during the week, and on the
weekend it’s his damn turn.  Besides,
moms did the pregnancy/labor/childbirth/breastfeeding-every-half-hour/never-having-the-same-body-again
part, and dads are NEVER done making up for that.

Now everyone join me in wishing for an uneventful week.  Please.

Go see TGeek for some disturbing, brass-related photography.


17 thoughts on “

  1. “moms did the pregnancy/labor/childbirth/breastfeeding-every-half-hour/never-having-the-same-body-again part, and dads are NEVER done making up for that.” That made me laugh. I am regularly reminded of that. 😛

  2. That backyard cemetery thing is um… well, let’s just say I wouldn’t make a habit of buying many of those , umm… ‘disposable’ pets. Stay away from the turtle aisle!

  3. ps. What were you supposed to do with the garden step stone kit?It was a gift?Are you fasting?Do you have terrible cravings for brownies and ice cream?

  4. I’m all with you on the dads have to make up for what they didn’t go through already.  This time around, I’m sitting back and letting the man do more…per doctor’s orders.  But it’s nice to see him pitch in, and makes me wonder if half the reason he didn’t before was because I didn’t give him the chance to. 

  5. It’s great when we can focus on the positive aspects (e.g., lessons learned) of sad experiences, as you have done here.
    Please have an unventful week.  Typo.  I meant uneventful, but unventful has an interesting ring to it.

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