It’s a rite of passage for many children, the loss of a golden finned friend. Last night was our turn as we bid adieu to Goldie and Abraham, who had succumb to the perils of tank life.  Daddy scooped them up and we gathered around the throne.  He tossed them in and gave a chipper, “All drains lead to the ocean!”  He looked at me giggling and I nodded “no,” the smile fell from his face.  L said, “I’d like to say a few words.”  We waited.  “I can’t do it!” he cried.  S stepped up, “I’ll speak. Goldie, you were a good fish.  We will miss you terribly. (Apparently Abraham failed to make an impression on her, but I digress). You are free now, no longer in pain. So Goldie, go to the heaven’s to be with the other angels…and great Grandpa.”  I glance over at C, he’s hunched over and head bowed, his shoulders shaking.  Is he losing it?  Gonna hurl?  Get a grip man, they’re 19 cents! No, he’s straining to control his unbridled laughter!  L literally falls into my arms bawling, “GOLDIEEEEE!” Daddy gives the flush and I imagine a tiny floral wreath whirling down to the ocean.  I admit I was ill prepared for the dramatic response to the loss of our little school.  I shuffle the kids out so as not to be traumatized by daddy’s hysterics. I look over at C and say, “You need to give them a hug, they’re taking this hard.”  “I’m trying!!” He snorts.  Man, this parenting thing, we’re knocking it out of the park!