Just a quick thing about the fish

Over the weekend I found myself in an odd situation in which I was driving curvy, pot-holey rural backroads with a live fish in a bowl in my lap, a dozen freshly frosted rainbow cupcakes sliding all over on the seat next to me, steering with one hand and trying to maintain with the other.

It kind of reminded me of the time with the mustache except maybe this was a little trickier.

Luckily, the fish made it to the farm without sloshing out of its bowl, because it was on a journey: to become the prize at the end of the scavenger hunt.

This birthday, we made Kid hunt for her present by setting up a bunch of clues. Kid and her little friends ran all over the farm, from the bird bath down to the crab pots, up to the sauna, then to the wooden bear sculpture.

The fish was found, the presents opened and the rainbow cupcakes eaten. The dog even managed to eat one.

And then I drove that fish back up the windy, pot-holy road to its new home by the bay. The newest, bluest Bergeron.

And now the frogs are croaking and I’m going to bed. I like when they sing me to sleep.