We were talking about Sea Monkeys today. Sea Monkeys are one of those character-building, rite of passage elements of childhood, just like Disney movies where someone dies (Bambi’s mother gets shot, the kid has to shoot Old Yeller – his own dog! You could someday be required to shoot your own dog! That’s just wrong).
I remember being really, really excited when my parents got me my first Sea Monkey kit. They come with a little plastic aquarium, and the picture showed the little family smiling in a group, intriguing humanoid mer-people with crowns, father, mother and children. Baby sea people – how cool is that? I watched and watched, anxious to see them born (method curiously unspecified). And then I realised that there were bugs in the water. I wasn’t ever going to get a little merpeople family, I was going to have bugs. Creepy little shrimp-like water bugs. I cried.
Life is like that, so it’s excellent preparation for adulthood. Buy your kids Sea Monkeys, people. And while you’re at it, make them shoot the family dog.
Marriage is a bit like sea monkeys, at times. You think it’s all going to be fair and even and you are going to take care of each other, help each other to fulfill dreams and ambitions. Sometimes, it seems like that. And then again, sometimes it seems like a big fat seamonkey ripoff.
We had a huge fight last night about the horse. We’d talked about it after the day I ate a lot of arena dirt while trying out the headcase. We had extra money after getting a good deal on the car that Phil wanted, I have a small freelance project coming up, and we have some cash that needs to go on one of the credit cards. Perhaps I could steal a bit of that temporarily, and then pay it back next month. It was do-able…in theory. But no…the result of all of the “discussion” was that I would wait until fall, or whenever Kip is sound again and can be sold. Bye, bye, summer. Fine…I can see his point. But mine is that he is driving a nice car, and things aren’t equal. I make a lot more money, which is all contributed to the household, but my dreams are dismissed because it’s just a “little hobby.”
If I had a dog, I’d shoot it.