baronessekat | Weekly challange to me

“That one,” she said, face pressed against the glass and finger pointing.

I blinked and tried to figure out which one she was talking about. I mean, come on, the tank at the pet store was packed with goldfish. I blinked and looked at the clerk. “That one,” I said with a shrug.

The clerk took his little container and net and went fishing through the tank. Deftly he scooped up a fish, plopped it into the container. Great! Fish achieved. We could get the hell out of there.

But, my 6-year-old niece had other ideas. She shook her head. “That’s not the one.” I blinked and looked at the goldfish in the container and then at the 40 million in the tank. I saw absolutely no difference.

But the clerk was a good sport, nodded and dumped the fish back into the bigger tank and went about the process again of getting the one Jessica had pointed to.

Swish, scoop, plop. I knew instantly from the expression on the child’s face that once again we had failed to obtain the right fish. So did the clerk. With a shrug the procedure happened again. Dump, swish, scoop, plop.

No dice.

I repressed a long-suffering sigh. I was going to kill my sister for dumping me with Jessica today. Everything we did had been such a production. From picking if we were going to go to the zoo, the aquarium or the park, to lunch and Mickey D’s and what kind of drink she wanted, and now…

“That one,” Jessica repeated and pointed again at the tank.

Why, oh why, dear God did I tell her that if she was good I’d buy her a goldfish? Because I’m the cool uncle, that’s why. Uncle Jason always gives into the big blue eyes and dimples of his one and only niece. And damn if the twerp didn’t know that.

Finally after 20 minutes of dump, swish, scoop, plop the clerk and I heave a great big sigh of relief at the words “That’s him!” I looked at the fish in the container and back at the tank. Nope, still didn’t see a difference, but obviously there was one or she wouldn’t have held out so long.

“Great sweets. Now let’s go pick out a bowl and some rocks for your fish.”

“Starshine,” she said cryptically.

I blinked down at her as I took the bag of goldfish from the clerk. “What’s that?”

“His name is Starshine.”

Of course it is.

“Well let’s go find Starshine a bowl and some rocks and maybe a plant,” I say steering the child towards the right isle in the pet store. Where I stood, carefully practicing my self control in not killing my only sister’s daughter as she then began the torturous process of deciding what color rocks and what plant she wanted in her fish bowl.

As she examined every plastic plant on display I held up the bag and looked at the goldfish.

“You know what, Starshine,” I whispered, “between you and me, this is why I plan on never having kids. At least with nieces and nephews, I can give them back at the end of the day.”

I swear I made eye contact with the fish and heard in my head “You and me both, man.”