Taylor got some fish for his birthday. Today the first one died. He is having a hard time understanding what "death" means. Earlier today I told him that we had to throw it away. He was not pleased to hear this. He said, "But I love my fish, and my fish loves me!" Heartbreaking words for a Dad to hear. We told him that tomorrow we'll have to flush it down the toilet. We'll see how that goes...On a different note, tonight we were sitting around the kid's toy kitchen and Taylor said, "I'm usually a good cook, but sometimes I pick my nose." I'm glad to hear he understands that finding a booger in my soup would not be my preference.








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