Ode to Finners

Saturday evening, we came home from running errands and found Peter's beta fish dead in his fish bowl. I guess after having Kimball, I haven't been the best at reminding Peter to feed his fish, and he hasn't remembered to do it himself, so we starved the poor fish to death. We all felt awful, especially Peter. We had a long talk about the resurrection, and how even though we don't understand it all, that we can have faith that Heavenly Father will take care of Finners. It was a hard, but very hopeful, lesson for Peter to learn.
On Sunday he had to make a choice on what to do with his fish. I told him we could flush him down the toilet or bury him in our yard. It was a tough choice. He didn't necessarily want to flush him because he knew what sorts of things went down the same pipe, but it had just snowed 8 inches outside and that didn't look too comfortable for poor Finners either. After hours of deliberation, he decided to finally bury his fish. So, with shovel and pick ax in hand, we went outside and dug a hole. Peter sweetly kissed the special box we found for Finners, and choking back the tears, buried his dear fish. Oh, why do these lessons have to be so hard for parents as well?
I am so glad to know for myself the doctrine of resurrection and be able to teach that to my son. I hope he gained a testimony of faith and resurrection through this experience, because it brings me such hope.