Mar 6, 2017 3 min read

I’m learning to pick my battles, and here’s an example. My middle child loves small creatures. She loves goldfish and pretty pebbles and babies. Many Sundays, I am only able to get her out of bed for church by reminding her that some mother in some pew behind us will probably need a break and she can likely hold their child. I’d like for her to want to get up on her own, but I let it go as long as she gets up at all.

She also has loved turtles for a long time, and for nearly all of that time, she has been hounding her dad and me to let her have one. Because she still has that teenage tendency to not see things through, we were loath to invest in one.

Did you know that turtles are expensive?

There is not only the actual animal, but a tank, heat lights, a basking rock, a filtration system, replaceable filters, food, a heater, thermometer, treats, and the list goes on. We were simply not willing to make a several-hundred-dollar investment in an animal with a 50-year life expectancy for a child who has yet to complete a yearlong commitment to any activity.

But then we saw an advertisement on Facebook for a turtle, equipped with all of the required stuff, plus some other extras, for the bargain price of a hundred bucks. My husband was still skeptical, but I told our kiddo that she could have him, IF she paid for him. I picked my battle, figuring she would either be deterred or invested in his care.

She bought him.

She named him Henry and spent hours setting up his tank. She put it right beside her bed so that, even when she is sleeping, she is right there beside him and he doesn’t feel alone. She set her iPod alarm to sound twice a day when he is due for food so that he never misses a meal. She takes him out of the water and rubs the underside of his shell until he relaxes and closes his eyes.

The other day, I worked late at the store. We had an event that kept me out until well past dinner. When I arrived home, my youngest was already in bed and my middle child was in the tub. I gently knocked on the door to see if I could come in to prepare for bed, as well.

She hesitated a moment before telling me yes, which is odd for her. Since she bathes with the curtain pulled closed, there is rarely an issue with our sharing the space.

So I asked her if everything was OK. She repeated her yes, but I could tell there was something amiss. I entered the bathroom and asked again. She peeled back the curtain just a tiny bit near her feet so that I could peek.

There, swimming in the tub with her, was Henry the turtle.

“I thought maybe you’d be mad,” she said.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I continued on toward the closet. He seemed ecstatic, and she is a few months into turtle ownership and still quite enthralled with him.

The war may not be over, but this battle, seemingly, has been won.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.