Fish Miracles

Last night, my son Isaac ran down to my bedroom, alarmed that his dresser was "all wet and the water was stank!" Stifling my laughter for the use of the word "stank," I asked him why he thought the water smelled bad. He claimed it was water from his fishbowl, which triggered several thoughts. My first thought was that Charlie, our little cat, had been fishing. It's happened before, and although he is terribly unsuccessful, he continues to try. As I walked down the hall, I braced myself for a mess. I have this way of thinking myself through the worst situations so that when I'm actually in them, I don't panic and get overly upset. If the fishbowl is spilled over, it's okay, I'll get some towels and clean it all up. If it's broken, we'll have to get a replacement, and then the fish..." Oh no, the fish! I hadn't even thought about them. Two bettas, a red one named Marlin and a blue one named Ryan (random names, I don't question a five-year old's logic while naming fish), were housed comfortably in this two-sided bowl, with a little opaque shield that could be lifted to reveal a window between the sides whenever Isaac wanted to see them "puff up their muscles and get mad at eachother." Do bettas have muscles? Do they really get mad? Anyway, I hadn't thought about what must have happened to the fish. Did the cat finally eat them? Suddenly, panic struck me. Nothing in Isaac's life has ever really died before. I haven't prepared this talk yet. What would I say? Sure, he's seen me squish bugs, he's seen roadkill and asked questions out of curiosity, but nothing of his had ever died. So, I got to the fishbowl, and to confirm suspicion, it was dry, and water soaked the dresser and floor. "See mommy, see?! I promise you I did NOT do this!!! " he exclaimed, and with the look on his face, I truly believed him. Actually, when I picked it up, I found that the drain cap on the bottom was somewhat loose, and water was leaking from underneath it. Either way, I looked inside the bowl, and all of the rocks and the little fake trees were still in it, and beneath the trees, on either side, lay Ryan and Marlin. Isaac stared at me with hopeful eyes, and said "Are they in there, mommy?" I nodded my head, staring hard at the two fish, hoping to see any possible sign of life, but there was none. "Are they going to swim again, mommy?"
"Um, I don't think so, buddy. I think they are gone." At that, Isaac's eyes flooded with tears and he threw himself on his bed. Although he's normally a tough kid who rolls with the punches, this was a very raw reaction for him, feeling loss, and feeling anger because he didn't know how it happened. "I'll never have fish AGAIN!" he screamed. You see, Ryan and Marlin were "practice fish." Isaac always wants to go down the fish aisle at Meijer and pick out the fish he will one day have. He likes to look at the pirate ships and treasure chest tank accessories, and we told him late summer that if he took care of Ryan and Marlin for a while, we would get a big tank for him to fill. I could see not only the hurt of losing his fish, but the frustration, knowing what this might mean for his future fish tank. As I carried the fishbowl into the bathroom, I started talking about how we could go to Meijer the next day and see about getting some more, and he followed on my heels, still crying.
I pulled the fake trees out, and was leaning over the toilet bowl, trying to come up with a quick eulogy for the bettas, when Isaac proclaimed, "Well mom, of course they're not swimming, because they don't have any water!" I told him it was too late, they'd probably been without water for a long time, and proceeded to slide their lifeless bodies to the edge of the fishbowl to dump them down. "MOM, give them WATER!" He just wasn't getting it, and I didn't really want to add water to this bowl so he could see them float. But, because he was so adamant, and because I didn't really know how else to explain that they were gone, I flipped on the faucet and began filling the bowl up again. Sure enough, Ryan and Marlin floated up to the top. I set the bowl down and said "There now, see? They can't swim, bud. They're going to have to go to fishy heaven. We'll still go pick out some new....." "MOM!" he interrupted. I looked at the bowl, and my jaw dropped open as the words fell out of my mouth "My God they're alive." Red fish and blue fish, Marlin and Ryan, were suddenly darting around the bowl once again. Friends, I tell you, this was nothing short of a five-year old's miracle. I have no idea how this could even be possible. I quickly grabbed two glass jars and transferred them, noticing the bowl was still leaking, and they stayed as perky as ever, exploring their new surroundings.
"Heh...I told ya they needed water, mom. Don'tcha know that fish need water for swimming? I even knew that."
No, I apparently never heard that one, Isaac.
Obviously, I realize this must have been some fluke occurrence. Or maybe it was a miracle. Who knows, maybe God knew this little boy wasn't ready to handle death yet. Or maybe He knew I wasn't prepared to talk about it.
Either way, what I learned is that our children will all face tragedy at some point, and unfortunately, it probably won't always be something as small as a fish. The moral of this story is that I've got to figure out what to say, for next time. That, and I'd probably better get rolling on that fish tank. Perhaps then, when Ryan and Marlin do go to fishy heaven, it'll be a little more tolerable?