Don't get it twisted.

Twisty is a fish that Rudy plucked out of the plastic red treasure chest at our pediatric opthamologist's office.  And he has since become a favorite, an actual treasure, reliably cracking up Rudy when he emerges from my coat pocket, purse, or from the underside of the dinner table.  But he's not always so readily available.  Since Rudy brought him home in September, he has been lost and recovered more times than I can count.  Our fall babysitters helped Rudy hunt for her small, narrow friend in bins, between couch cushions, and under furniture and random displays of toys, maybe a dozen times.  When I couldn't find my bag of field hockey balls before a youth clinic one Sunday morning, I frantically texted my assistant coach to ask if she had it, and she replied, "Maybe it's with Twisty?" because even she knew about the tears that Twisty, our Chronic Hide-and-Seeker, gave my Toot on a nearly daily basis.

Right now, we have no idea where to find Twisty.  But it's mid-December, and Rudy's less distraught about his missing status because Twisty's transient, noncommittal nature has become part of his charm.  When I just asked her where Twisty is, she smiled and went right into her Twisty impression.  This means that she began humming MMMM, MMMMM, MMMMM with a pursed smile (see above) and added, in a delightful version of a fishy baritone, that he's busy somewhere having a party.

That guy is living the life.  At this point, he answers to no one, and yet, he's celebrated and adored whenever he appears in public.