So when I got home tonight Kevin asked me if Cheese was "okay?"...I said, "I don't know, why?". Kevin, "He hasn't moved since I got home."...uh-oh...
Upon further inspection, Captian Cheese Nibbleton III
had indeed passed away.
We have no idea what Cheese succumb to and I looked at Kevin and said, "How should we tell the kids?" In true husbandly fashion...he didn't answer. Since I was left on my own to decide, I apparently thought dinner time was the best...WRONG!
Slobbery, teary pizza makes things more sad.
Well, Lincoln and Ainsley were so torn up about Cheese's death, Clara not so much...
She was planning a rafting trip.
In between dramatic sobbing and snotting there were phrases like, "I want a new pet" (boo, hoo, hoo), "Can we get a tarantula" (sniffle, choke).
We decided that to help with emotional closure we needed to bury him and have a little graveside service. To this Ainsley said, "Can we wait, I want people to know about it and come". We couldn't wait. So for those of you who would have liked to have been there, I apologize. I told Ainsley, I would write a blog about it so "people would know".
We loaded up the old Sienna "Swagger Wagon" and drove over to our land to bury him. Lincoln, had found a very appropriate coffin (Adidas shoe box) and Kevin dug a hole.
So it was a sad day at Camp Stanfield. The kids are recovering. They went to bed hungry, since they were too sad to finish their pizza (hindsight is 20/20). Their little eyes will probably be swollen tomorrow from all the tears. And we will not be getting a new pet, tarantula or otherwise, for awhile.
I feel bad that my children are having to experience this heartache, but life will go on and they will heal.
On a related note: Please let me know if you need any hamster supplies...we have found ourselves in possession of some that will not be used.
