...Yesterday, we did not get a frog, much to Noah's loud, very loud, dismay. Turns out, not only are the fish we have the poopiest, but also they are bullies who would torment the poor, baby African frog.
For those of you who know Noah, well, you know that it did not go well from that point on. I don't blame him. He was so excited. Rhett handled it fairly well. He was just upset that we couldn't get just one more fish.
"But we did! We got the bottom feeder! See? He is in the bag!"
No, another one more fish he told me.
Oh.
We now have our peaceful pleco, named Gripper Mover (we'll call him Gripper for short), hiding out on a rock in his new home. After naming him, the boys promptly lost interest and until bedtime, stopped mentioning the frog.
One more sigh, one more wish, then I bid them goodnight and silently prayed they would forget the frog too.
I'm sure God had a chuckle over that.
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