Gracie has decided that she wants a betta fish. I don't know where this current obsession came from, but she asks about it frequently.
This weekend, the conversation in the van went like this:
Gracie: Can we get a betta?
Gracie: Why not?
Me: Because it's something else we'll have to keep up with, and it's something else for you to cry over when it dies.
Gracie: How long do they live?
Me: I dunno. Two or three years, maybe?
Gracie: So it'll be a while before it dies, and I won't cry.
Me: Except that you're not taking into account Colin dropping a radio into the bowl.
Gracie: Colin's not going to turn them into fish sticks.
She's already developing a dark sense of humor, and she's only nine. She comes by it honestly. Just last week, when her mother was stressing over starting with a new workgroup, Gracie suggested that, if the new group gives Amanda any trouble, she should simply "Punch them in their grill," complete with mimicked illustration. I have no idea where she got that.