On a strange whim, I bought the little angel a betta fish last week. His name is Simon. His stomach is the size of his eyeball, so she is only to feed him three pellets every other day. 

I bought him a little plastic tank with a light and a small filter so that she (read: we) only has to clean the tank once a month. 

She wanted a puppy. I bought her a fish.

This is the sort of parent I am.

I did, however, buy her the fish quite unexpectedly, which in the world of kid-dom makes it the coolest present ever.

The pet store guy asked if I was getting it for her birthday. I said, "No, it's Wednesday." He said, "She gets a present every Wednesday?" And I stopped myself from telling him he was very Judgy Judgerson because I realized I was thinking what an idiot he was to not get my joke.

This is the sort of person I am.

Simon seems happy. I'm not sure what the hell he does all day, but it seems to involve hiding in his little plastic plant and chasing the bubbles that come out of the filter. 

This is the sort of fish he is.

I'm pretending to my daughter and the neighbor kids that I bought Simon for the little angel to teach her responsibility. But the truth of the matter is that I really liked the fish and I really love my daughter, and I thought they might be happy together.

That is the fun part of being an adult.