Liar, Liar

I’m an honest person. No really, I hate lying. I often have at least one person angry with me because I just can’t help but tell the truth. Keep that in mind as I bear my dirty little secret…

Today is my youngest son’s 8th birthday. One of his presents was a small fish tank that we let him open early so the water would have plenty of time to sit before we put fish in the tank. The plan was to let him pick out a couple of goldfish to put in it today, and maybe add another one or two down the road after the tank settled.

The store I’d hoped to get his fish from didn’t have anything healthy enough to buy, so we wound up spending another two hours in the car looking for a place that sold fish.

By the time I pulled into the chain pet store, it was my last hope. I didn’t want to go to this particular store – I know from past experience that adopting a puppy is easier than buying a fish from this place – but I was not about to disappoint my son on his birthday. We were going home with a goldfish, come hell or high water.

So when the 16-year-old clerk asked me what size tank I had, I answered, “20 gallons” without missing a beat. Our tank is significantly smaller than 20 gallons, but I knew she wasn’t letting me out of that store with a goldfish if I gave her the real number.

According to my husband, she was staring right into his soul. She knew, but she  also sensed that denying me a fish at that point could incite a brawl.

This is entirely possible.

As she captured the two fish my son had deemed perfect, she quizzed me about their future living conditions and informed me I could bring them back to their fish hospital if they didn’t look entirely healthy at any point in the first two weeks.

I didn’t point out that the fish on the next row down were being sold as feeder fish. I didn’t ask if the feeder fish had less of a soul than the $4.00 fish. I did reiterate that I’ve owned fish before – we’d be okay with our two goldfish.

As the fish clerk filled out the paperwork for us to take to the register, I instructed my kids, “Not one word until we’re in the car.”

I also prayed my teenage son wouldn’t burst into laughter. He looked close. His eyes were watering by that point.

So we have our fish. Now happily swimming in their tank, which is not 20 gallons. Dear Lord, I hope those fish live long and healthy lives. I don’t want to further compound my lying ways to replace them.

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