Left a good job in the city

Number one son is too young, even at the advanced age of nine and a half, to have been exposed to all the cynicism of the world, or to have heard all the adages of the ages. I do my bit on the grumpy old cynic front, but some things you have to learn for yourself. He's been trying to teach the dog to fetch. He started by throwing bits of food. The next step was to put the food into an old tennis ball with a slit in it so she'll chase it. The tricky part seems to be persuading her to bring the ball back rather than just attempting to shred it. He perseveres, and has even been googling the topic. Kids today, huh?

It's only a cliche because it's true: you can't teach an old dog new tricks.

In other news: one of the goldfish has died. It may have something to do with the hug that number two son gave it when we got it home. Tough love. There was no funeral this time - the fish is shortly to be landfill. It seems that the kids don't get attached to the fish either.