Remember how I said yesterday that I don’t talk about religion? Well, apparently I lied. We had a bit of a miracle in the Anthoine house yesterday afternoon and I just have to share.

Around 5 yesterday afternoon, I threw Henry in the shower. If you read about bath time, you know I literally had to THROW him in the shower. And then DRAG him out.

I went into his bedroom to get his clothes laid out for morning and noticed the fishy tank. One little fishy was just hanging out at the bottom of the tank. Obviously just taking a little fishy siesta… or not.

Upon further inspection, the fish appeared “broken” as in his back end wasn’t moving. His mouth was moving and his front fins were, but the back end, notsomuch. I threw some food in and the other fish headed to the top, leaving the other fishy gasping for life and wondering why he couldn’t get to the top to get the food.

I resisted the urge to pull him out and perform CPR and did what every good mom would. I go screaming into the bathroom, “OMG HENRY YOUR FISH IS GOING TO DIIIIIE.” Ok. Maybe not that dramatic, but I told him nicely, “Baby, your fishy isn’t looking too good. I think he’s going to die.”

Well, that was greeted by tears. And an ultra-dramatic performance, worthy of a death scene tryout, “NOoooOOooOooO I don’t want my fish to diiiiiiiie.”

I prepared Jason by text that he would be coming home to a dead(ish) fishy and a very sad child. My God, what did parents do before texting was around to be able to give spouses a heads-up about drama at home without the kid hearing it? Did they just have “The Look” perfected? I’m pretty sure even after 13 years of marriage, we don’t have “The Look” for “the damn fish that the BIL bought for the kid is about to meet his maker, aka the toilet bowl.” But maybe we do and just haven’t used it because texting is just easier.

I digress.

Jason got home. Henry immediately looked at Jason and with the most adorable eyes said, “Dad, (long dramatic pause) I have some bad news. One of my fishies is sick. He’s going to die.” And while choking back tears he went on to explain that he was broken and not dead yet but that Mom said he would die soon.

Jason dutifully went to check and what to his wondering eyes should appear? But a three-quarters dead fishy stuck to the filter. One that barely moved when prodded. Lovely, huh? Poor fishy.

Dinner. TV. Running around. Bedtime.

I went up to read Henry a book and damn if that fish wasn’t swimming around SMILING at me. I felt like I’d been totally punk’d. I said something to the effect of, “Holy crap, this fish is fine.”

And Henry, with those same adorable eyes, looked at me and said, “Mom, you know God heals the weak.”

Yes, baby, God DOES heal the weak.

And we’ve just witnessed a Fish Tank Miracle.