I just spoke with a very nice, and very harried, mother of three. As we were speaking about their family's upcoming vacation plans, she puts the phone down in mid sentence and I hear in the background, "No, no, no honey. The fishie is dead. Leave him in the bowl for daddy to take care of.... Ok, Andy, sorry about that, now where was I..." She then proceeds to tell me how last night her older daughter thought that the family fish needed a bath, a bubble bath. Apparently the family fish didn't make it. It was their second fish fatality in as many months. Daughter number 2 had been party to the first fish casualty. Apparently watching Finding Nemo with the fish on her lap wasn't as much fun for the fish as the little girl thought it would be.