As we were going up over the big hill on the way home from school you asked if you could have some
Goldfish. You asked because you could see the bag of them left over from our vacation, sitting on the floor next to the driver’s seat, so it was a little hard to say “no”.
So I handed the bag back to you and you proceeded to extract crushed bits of fish-shaped crackers with
reckless abandon grim determination.
And then, pretty much out of nowhere, you said:
One goldfish is sad... He wants his girlfriend, but his girlfriend is in the water.
To which I said “What?”
And you repeated, verbatim, your short story of the goldfish and his girlfriend.
Honestly, I had no idea you could make up stories.
And I had no idea you knew that there was such a thing as a “girlfriend”.
I also had no idea where the commentary on the social life of goldfish was coming from.
Fortunately when we got home I looked at the bag you were holding.
A careful look showed me that you were pretty much right.
