The boys have been asking to get some pet fish for a few weeks now, and we’ve been promising to let them. We eventually checked out tanks and fish, and this past weekend, we got the equipment and fish. We’re starting out with a very small set up, to see how it all works out.

The tank is just 2 gallons, and it sits nicely on the shelf between the den and kitchen. It has an air pump and filter, white rocks on the bottom, and a treasure chest (picked out by Calfgrit7) with gold spilling out. If the boys continue to show interest, and the fish survive, we’ll get something bigger.

A few years ago, when our oldest was only 3 years old, before we even had the youngest, we had a similar set up with two goldfish. Calfgrit-then-3 named the fish Spot and Oranger. We went through two Spots and three Orangers within a few months. The poor things kept dying.

Having researched fish a little better, I now think the fish were just too big for the small tank (or the tank was too small for the fish). This time we got two guppies — much smaller than the goldfish. Both boys picked out a “Fancy Guppy” — Calfgrit7 picked out one with an orange tail fin with black spots, and Calfgrit3 picked out one with a yellow tail fin with black spots. They’re named “Max” and “Calfgrit3 Fish” [no apostrophe s] respectively.

Young kids can pick some interesting names, or lame names, depending on your perspective. I’ll tell you about their stuffed animals’ names in another post.

There was a tiny, tiny little baby guppy with them, unknowingly scooped up with them, but I think I lost him when I poured out some of the water down a sink to put the fish in their new tank. I didn’t realize anyone would miss the near-microscopic baby, but I learned after the incident that Cowgrit and the Calfgrits had been talking about watching the tyke grow up. I explained that it probably would have been eaten anyway, or otherwise just not survived, but that didn’t make anyone happy. Fortunately, I think the baby has been forgotten by now.

So far, the FAGs have survived two days in their new home. I presume the “FAG” written on the bag stands for “Fancy Guppies.” The pet store worker wrote it on the bag for me to take to the check out. (I originally titled this post “A Couple of FAGs” because I thought it funny, but I changed the title after thinking that some folks might not appreciate the humor.)

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Last game night, I brought my Talisman (second edition) board game. It’s been a couple of years since we played it, and it’s a really fun game. Unfortunately, I had forgotten — all of us had forgotten — the arguments we can get into when trying to figure out some of the rules.Ninety percent of the rules work just fine — they’re clear, direct, and precise. But the 10% that are unclear, indirect, and imprecise cause major arguments among us. I don’t know why, but this game just brings out our worst sportsmanship.Before we finished our four hour game (yes, one game took four hours to play), a couple of us commented, “Now I remember why we haven’t played this in so long.”Normally, I enjoy playing any game with these guys, but with Talisman, we all argue pretty heatedly about rulings. I mean, it even got to the point where when I said, “Wait a second,” because I wanted to cast a spell (see the spell cards next to my sprite character in the picture) before the player to my left took another action, he said, “There’s nothing in the rules that says I have to stop just because you say ‘wait.'” And he continued drawing cards and doing his turn. I was dumbfounded. (That is so totally out of character for that player.)And when someone tries to play a spell on someone else, the target player always tries to do something in response to take effect before the first player’s action takes effect. And arguments start over why the target player can’t do this — arguments that end up with someone pissed off. (I believe this is the direct influence of Magic: the Gathering, because I never saw this rule assumption when I played the game back in the 80s and early 90s, before MtG became a phenomenon.)Talisman is a well designed and fun game, on paper. But for our group, it’s something of an evil force that makes us unfriendly. We’ve played the game a couple dozen times over the five years we’ve been together, and every time — every time — we’ve had some ugly arguments over it. What is it about this game? No other game affects us so.We play some pretty intense, challenging, aggressive, and competitive games, but we’ve always been good sports. When we find a rules problem in a game, we try to figure out the logical, reasonable, and most true-to-the-spirit ruling we can that satisfies everyone playing. But we never can with Talisman.After this past game, we all agreed I’d put it away and should never bring it back to the game night. It’s evil. It’s EVIL, I tell you. I wonder if having a priest exorcise it would help?Bullgritbullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Cowgrit called me on my cell phone to let Calfgrit7 tell me about his exciting find. While at the park, playing with a friend, they found a bunch of caterpillars. He collected several and brought them home. When Cowgrit got back on the phone, I mentioned that I think caterpillars are dangerous for yards, trees, and flowers. I remember a bunch of trees being eaten to ruin by swarms of caterpillars at my grandparents’ farm, way back when I was Calfgrit7’s age. I said it was probably fine that Calfgrit7 had some to play with, just so long as they stay in control — locked in the bug box. (Both our boys have a small container for keeping insects for study.)

When I got home I learned that Calfgrit7 had collected about a dozen caterpillars. Whoa, that’s a lot! He wanted to research the critters on the Internet, so we got on my computer and Googled them. Every site we came to identified caterpillars as pests, and much of the information was directions on how to kill them and stop infestations. And here we already had 12.

So I explained to Calfgrit7 that we needed to take the caterpillars back to the park, their normal home, so they can eat the plants they’re used to and need, and so they won’t eat any of our plants and trees. He said he could keep them under control, and suggested we get the plants they like and bring them home. But he kept bringing one or two into the house to show us (the bug boxes stay outside, always), and one time he found one that secretly hitched a ride on his shirt. I mentioned to Cowgrit that even worse than having all of them loose in the yard would be for one or two to get loose in the house.

So we gently convinced Calfgrit7 to take them back to the park. He released them and said goodbye, “have a good life,” to all of them. But then his friend, who had been at the park with him when they found the caterpillars, mentioned that he was keeping his (only two) until they turned into moths. He even brought a limb with leaves, from the park trees, to school to give Calfgrit7 for his caterpillars.

Calfgrit7 asked if he could go back and get one or two caterpillars to watch them make cocoons and transform into moths. Cowgrit and I discussed it and allowed him to bring two home — one for him, one for Calfgrit3. Not surprisingly, we ended up with three bugs — two for CG7, one for CG3. Well, at least that’s better than a dozen. And he promised to abide by the rules of no caterpillars in the house, and none loose out of the bug box.

Both boys are very excited about their new “pets,” and they check on them outside a couple times a day. They keep leaves and bottle caps filled with water in the boxes for the critters. So far, all is well. I really hope all goes well with this experience. I’ll feel really dumb if one or all get loose and we end up with an infestation next year. But, if no ruinous plague comes of this, then the boys witnessing the natural transformation of a caterpillar into a moth will be a pretty cool thing.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com

Calfgrit7 went to his first Cub Scouts Pack meeting, and we were all excited because he was to get his first badge — Bobcat. He was supposed to get the badge at last month’s meeting, but that meeting got canceled.

I had explained to Calfgrit7 how the badge ceremony would work: there’d be a lot of Scouts and parents in the big room, they’d call his name to go up in front of everyone, and I’d go with him up there, the pack master would say something, give him the badge, and then we’d sit down. I had been looking forward to this for several weeks, and I had assured him that I’d be with him when he went up.

There were no chairs in the meeting room (odd, that) so everyone either sat on the floor or stood against the back and side walls. Cowgrit and Calfgrit3 were with us, though we had gotten separated during the opening of the meeting. I was sitting on the floor about 10 feet behind Calfgrit7’s cub den, and Cowgrit and Calfgrit3 were sitting on the floor on the other side of the room.

Calfgrit3 didn’t want to just sit, and he wiggled and moved constantly with Cowgrit. Eventually he got up and crawled over to sit with me. That was fine, but he’d have to go back when they started the badge ceremonies. When the pack master started talking about the badges to be awarded, I knew it was time to transfer Calfgrit3 back to his momma. But Cowgrit was looking straight ahead at the pack master, and I couldn’t get her attention without making a scene in the middle of the room.

I stared intently at her, hoping to get her attention, but she wasn’t feeling my glare. Then Calfgrit3 said he had to go to the potty. Oh no.

“OK,” I said, “walk over to mommy and tell her you need to got to the restroom.”

“No,” he said, “you go with me.”

I knew the badge ceremony was about to happen, but Cowgrit still had not looked over at us. There was no way for me to pass Calfgrit3 off to Cowgrit without making a scene in the middle of the meeting. I was starting to get upset. I didn’t want to miss the ceremony. I’d been looking forward to it for weeks, and Calfgrit7 was expecting me to be with him, like I had promised. “I have to go pee-pee,” Calfgrit3 whispered.

I ended up taking Calfgrit3 to the restroom myself — Cowgrit never noticed us move out (we left through the back of the room). When the little guy and I returned to the room, Calfgrit7 and Cowgrit were standing up front receiving the Bobcat badge.

I won’t lie — I was mad and hurt. I felt really bad for not being there for Calfgrit7 like I had promised I would be. I could just imagine him looking behind himself when they called his name, looking for me to be getting up to go with him, and not finding me anywhere in the room. I felt terrible for not doing what I had promised. I felt like a very bad daddy. Dammit!

After the meeting, I apologized to Calfgrit7 for not being there for him like I said I would. He said it was alright, but I could tell he was disappointed, at least a little bit. Dammit. Nothing will make a man feel lower than knowing he let his son down. I felt like crap, and that feeling didn’t go away for a few days. It still upsets me off when I think about it, but at least now I can quickly shove it back to the back of my mind and not sit and stew on it.

Bullgrit
bullgrit@totalbullgrit.com