My kids so desperately want a pet. As most of you know, we tried the fish thing. Twice. And failed. Twice. We've even tried a cat. About a year ago, a coworker of my husband's gave us 2 little kittens that she had rescued. They were the cutest little things. They reminded me of all those cute, kitty posters I used to have hung all over my bedroom as a young teen and (I am ashamed to say) in my college dorm room. I used to think those kittens were just so darn cute that I couldn't stand it!

Sadly though, after about a week of having these 2 kittens (named Squeaks and Myna), we realized that Grace seemed to be allergic to cats. That really stunk, because as pets go, cats are among the easiest to maintain. I am still holding out hope that her allergy might have been a fluke or an allergy to something else, not the cats, so that one day we might be able to get them a cat and not have to do the dog thing. (like my run on sentence?)

This past weekend, we were the proud and temporary keepers of Kristin's class pet, a guinea pig named, Marshmallow. It was snowing outside- a rarity in these parts- but all 3 girls would rather lay on the floor, staring at the cage, just hoping that poor little Marshmallow would come out of her hut. To her credit, she did venture out more and more the longer we had her. The girls just loved that thing, especially Elliott, our 2 year old. To watch her hold Marshmallow was like watching a new mother holding her new born baby for the first time. Eventually, as I'm sure most pets are in households full of girls, Marshmallow was subjected to being treated like a doll. They got out the doll brush and brushed her hair and I'm sure they would have loved to put doll clothes on her and push her around in the stroller but I kept having flashbacks of our last two pets (Louis and Wilbert fish) watching them as they struggled to hold on to an already bleak existence and then finally losing the battle. I decided since Marshmallow was only on loan, that we should probably try to not traumatize the thing to death. There had already been the hourly fights on who was going to get to hold her next or feed her a carrot (or in Elliott's case, shove a carrot in her face). No one fought over who was going to get to clean out her cage next. I won that battle every time. Or did I lose? Either way, I was the one shoveling poop at least once a day. For such a little creature, that thing sure could poop like a champ!

Alas, Marshmallow is back at school now. Poor Elliott woke up the morning of her return running around the house saying she needed to check on Marshmallow. She was distraught when she discovered she was too late. Marshmallow was gone.

Kristin, my planner, always thinking ahead, thinks after Marshmallow dies, their teacher should name the next one, Chocolate. Evidently Marshmallow is guinea pig #2 for this year. The first one, named Smores, died before Christmas, so Kristin, thought it only appropriate to name the next one, Chocolate (in keeping with the smores, marshmallow theme in case you didn't pick up on that). What does that say about Kristin that she's already planning past Marshmallows death? A good planner? Creative thinker? A morbid kid? I'm going with the first 2.