This is part of the essence of motherhood, watching your kid grow
into her own person and not being able to do anything about it.
Otherwise children would be nothing more than pets.
~ Heather Armstrong
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Elizabeth once had a mouse named Coco. I used to call it "Ratatouille," but she named it Coco. Even though - according to Elizabeth — Coco would sit on her shoulder and watch the movie "Ratatouille" with her.
Anyway, Coco was a fine enough - wait - gerbil not a mouse. Or hamster? Wow, I can't even remember. Not a mouse, though. A gerbil, I think.
Coco was a fine enough pet until Neko got hold of him. Neko bit off part of Coco's tail and Coco died. Elizabeth handled it pretty well. She had a little funeral and gave a eulogy and Maddie said a few words.
Then we kept Coco in a box in the shed until spring. It was winter and the ground was frozen, so we couldn't bury it until the earth in Iowa warmed up. We didn't really have a ceremony that time around. By then Elizabeth had recovered, though Coco had not.