Grandma: One, two, buckle my...
Cael: Shoe!
Grandma: Three, Four, open the...
Cael: Door!
Grandma: Five, Six, pick up...
Cael: Mess!

I'm such a proud mama.

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Go, Rescue Pack!

Obviously, I have been watching enough Go, Diego, Go! that I, too, have become an animal rescuer.

Authorities are still trying to determine whether it was accidental or attempted suicide, but one way or another, Medusa got herself sucked into the tank filter this morning. I walked by and saw her stretched into a skinny pink tube and all her arms were down the black hole.

Because I don't have a super backpack, camera, and interactive audience, I had to resort to Google to help me remedy this crisis. In what some would call a "duh" solution, my research concluded that I needed to turn the filter off. This, according to the world wide webs, may only be the first step. It could possibly be followed by dismantling and prying. I was not looking forward to that portion of the program.

I couldn't find a switch for the filter, but I yanked the plug out of the wall and the tank powered off. Medusa slowly slid back out and balled up into the fetal position. No arms appear to have been severed. Medical teams are standing by. I hope. Maybe. Do vets attend to invertebrates?

The good news is - two more saves and Diego will make me an official Animal Rescuer!

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Four out of five dentists agree: Cael is an awesome brusher of teeth.



The fifth dentist thinks that one should use a Tigger instead.



I'm not convinced the fifth dentist is wrong.

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We've got some sort of black fungus stuff growing in the aquarium. Fish dude says it comes from tap water and will eventually work itself out... or something. I tend to tune that out and let Ryan handle it. (Don't judge me! It was part of the deal!) It looks unappealing, to say the least. Kind of like the tank is in a bad industrial area where the buildings are all decrepit and smudged with soot. It's definitely the wrong side of the tracks.

And to add to the sociological degradation of our fish society, Drab is now walking around in Alabastor's shell. Which is both frightening and really, really creepy.

So, for those keeping tally, of the seven life-forms that once inhabited the tank, two are swimming in that giant toilet bowl in the sky, and one is wearing the deceased's skivvies. I'll give him props for the upgrade - his shell was boringly colored and sporting a giant hole - but minus points for total lack of class.

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And, because he's obviously already mastered the english language, we move on to spanish!

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Cael logic: "You told me to swing the bat."

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Cael and I were playing and Finn started crying. I told Cael I needed to go feed his brother and proceeded to grab Finn and lay him down on the Boppy. As we were getting settled, Cael came running up with his snack bowl of goldfish and said, "Foo! Baby foo!" He shoved the bowl in Finn's face and started tugging at my arm, chanting, "Mama! Mama! Mama!"

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Cael has been a big brother for almost three months now and he's still learning what exactly that job entails.

He makes sure to kiss Finn goodnight before heading to bed, he's very insistent that the baby's blanket always be with the baby, and this afternoon he tickled Finn and booped him on the nose (which was as exactly adorable as it sounds).

On the other end of the spectrum, Cael has been caught kicking, hitting and throwing things at Finn on numerous occasions.

Love and abuse are a delicate balance when it comes to brothers.

Since Cael doesn't have a brother role model, however, he's venturing into the land of mother as well.

He's very concerned with Finn's cleanliness, which is a good thing. He likes to pick up any dropped rags and give them back to his brother, and he will be the first to point out that Finn's spit up with an enthusiastic, "Uh oh! Mess!" and a finger in the baby's direction. Cael's also very helpful when Finn needs a fresh diaper from the bag or his laundry needs to be put in the hamper.

And when those things just don't seem like enough, Cael steps up to relieve me of the most motherly duty of all by lifting his shirt, pointing to his nipple and saying, "milk!"

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