Heidi is feeding her Beta fish named "Word" (actually Word the Second as the first Word was... um... flushed).
"Mom", she asks me, "does Word have eyes?"
"Yes, Heidi, you just can't see them very well, look close they blend in with his blue."
"Oh, yes." She says, "We need an orange fish, then I could see his eyes"
"Oh? You think so?"
"Yes. If Word was orange I could see his eyes."
She then puts her arm around me, looks adoringly into my eyes and says the words every mom longs to hear. Or not.
"Mom, we should paint Word."
Desperately trying to choke back the guffaw that's threatening, I manage to squeak out, "Paint Word?!?"
"Yes, Mom," She patiently explains, "then he could be orange and I could see his eyes."
"Oh, well God made Word blue, and I don't think paint is very good for fish"
"It's okay, Momma, we could go to the paint store and buy a special kind of paint"
"You think so?"
"Yes, but maybe Word won't hold still for us."
"No, probably not."
"Well, then we would have to punish him, and then he would hold still and I could paint him orange."
There's no changing course once that girl has made up her mind. I'm sincerely hoping the fish store is out of special paint.