Porodom and His So-Called Friends

We have a fish. His name is Porodom—at least that's how I think it's spelled. Gemma named him when we got him a year and a half ago, and honestly, I'm impressed she still remembers the name. When we went on our 3-month summer trip, she would wake up in the middle of the night saying she missed her fish. We chalked it up to homesickness, but now I'm convinced Porodom is basically her emotional support betta.

Here's the deal: if Gemma is hungry, Porodom is hungry. If she's lonely, Porodom is lonely. If she's bored, guess who else needs a new toy? That's right—Porodom. At this rate, I'm waiting for her to ask if he can join her at the dinner table.

The funny thing is, Gemma and Jules are not exactly lacking in companionship. They have each other, they have us (we both work from home, so we're always around), and they could make friends with a tree stump if it said "hi" back. But apparently, that's not the same as having another betta fish in the house. So off we went to the pet store.

Now, if you know anything about bettas, you know they're basically the divas of the aquarium world. Porodom doesn't exactly like having roommates. He's the kind of fish that would file a noise complaint if you swam too close to his bubble nest. But Gemma was insistent, so in the name of "fish friendship," we now have a tank with more fish to feed, clean up after, and keep alive. Because why not add "aquarium manager" to the parenting job description?

In the end, if having some new finned "friends" makes Gemma feel less lonely while she waits to go back to preschool, then I'll count it as a win. Sure, we've gone from one low-maintenance fish to a small aquatic reality show, but hey—life in the GJ household has never been boring. And if Porodom starts asking for snacks at bedtime, I won't even be surprised.

Parenting: because sometimes your kid's emotional support system comes with gills.

Love, Gemma and Jules’s mom