Tony Would Be Proud

Running around getting ready for the day this morning, at one point I was sitting on the floor in our bedroom helping Madison put on her socks and sneakers, Ava standing nearby. There has been an resurgence of pet talk lately as some of the girls' associates have welcomed new four-legged friends into their homes.

Madison was explaining why a fish was not such a good option for us because it "doesn't do anything" but swim around in the tank. "Yeah, and you can't even hold it," Ava agreed, "you can't take it out of the water." The consensus - as always - seemed to be that a cat would be our best option, if I can find a way around my allergies or agree to hold my breath for the next 15 or so years

I decided to throw out a red herring:

"Hey, what about a rat?"

"Ugh," Ava said, her face crinkling up. "Disgusting."

"Yeah Dad," Madison agreed. "A rat is disgusting, we don't want a pet rat."

"And there's one other really bad thing about rats," offered Ava, our 4-year-old, who has never to our knowledge watched a mob-oriented drama or visited a betting parlor. "Rats are tattletales!"