Last night, when Milo and Mama went to feed his fish, only one was swimming. Concerned, Mama told Milo that it was time for a bubble bath to distract him, but ever-curious had to find his orange fish. Which was floating, most inelegantly, upside down in the tank.

"Milo, hon, I'm sorry, but that fish is dead." Expecting it could go either way, sometimes "dead" just means "In a box, underground, with Basquiat and Ray Charles." No emotion, that's just the way it is. But last night, it was heartbreak, the most enormous tears and an inconsolable Milo. No promises of a new fish, no it's okay, he's in a better place (courtesy of our atheist Papa), nothing would cheer him up. Tears, snuggles, sleep.

Today, he told Auntie Sarah the story, which had been told to Mama earlier. Which introduced a whole new concept of dead and gone and might possibly have something to do with the film Iron Giant, even though we've almost convinced him that the Giant will come back to Hogarth as soon as he gets put back together again.

"My orange fish died." Were you sad? "I was crying." But you have another fish... "The other fish is sad because he lost his friend."

Jury is still out as to whether or not orange fish gets replaced today, or whether a whole new fountain of tears will commence.