This is a special memory from my own childhood.
I was about 4 years old the night that Daddy woke me up because he needed my help downstairs in the kitchen. He had been trying to clean our goldfish bowl and one of the goldfish had gone down the drain. He couldn’t reach it because his hands were too big. He needed my little hands to grab it.
Nope. I can remember standing on a stool or something to look down in the drain and shaking my head. We had a garbage disposal and even at that young age, I somehow knew that if I put my hand down there it would magically come on and both my fish and my fingers would be crushed!
He tried but my Dad could not talk me into it; I would not reach in there. I would not save my fish.
I don’t know where my mother or my little sister were while all of this was going on. I don’t remember going back to bed that night. I don’t remember ever having to explain to my sister where one of our fish went. We just never spoke of it again.