'If I get a new goldfish I'm going to call him Jesus' the four year old whispered in my ear at 6am.
'It might be a goldfish...or it might be a shark fish...but he will be called Jesus'.
There was no going back to sleep after that alarm call so I brought him downstairs and fed the actual fish that we do own. It was then that I noticed the puppy had pooed on the sitting room carpet. Cleaning up poo at any time of the day is not fun but before I've even had a coffee isn't really the way to get in my good books.
Then it was the cats turn - as I went to let her outside I saw that she had missed her litter tray and there was more shitty clearing up to do. Gross, gross, gross, gross, gross.
And whilst I was doing that - the puppy pissed on the kitchen floor.
And finally - to finish off my pre-dawn hell - as I went to pick up the cats water bowl I nearly put my hand on the big fat fucking slug that was hanging on the side of the dish.
So I think that getting Jesus Christ the goldfish would be a good idea - at least I will be able to let off some steam on those kind of mornings without the kids accusing me of being blasphemous.