The sad thing is that there is ONLY one room in my house that does not have a betta in it. And I would put one (or several) in it, except of the hair spray danger factor. (the bathroom - heh!)
So I have 3 in my bedroom.
And 3 in my kitchen.
And 8 in my living room.
and 2 in my son's room.
and FYI - I don't ask first, I just bring them home. We're to the point at our place where nobody really notices just one more, or even cares. They feel bad for me when one dies because I mope around for days. They celebrate with me when I get a new one - whether they want to or not.
I think... wait, I KNOW I have rubbed off on my son. I don't know that I've told many ppl this story, but here goes. My son's birthday was back in March of this year. I drug him along with me to run errands. I got a wild hair to do a wellness check while he was along with me at WalMart. We found a little red boy laying on his side, covered in fungus, shredded fins, etc. I picked him up and went to an employee working in the aisle and said "This guy needs some medical attention cuz he's pretty sick so if you could..." and she cut me off and said "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. We don't medicate our sick fish here". To which I stared and said "Which is exactly WHY you should not sell fish here."
She then said again "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can...." and I cut HER off and said "Again, why you should NOT SELL FISH HERE." note: this was on a Sunday afternoon at an EXTREMELY busy WalMart so I had drawn a tad bit of a crowd by this time. I stomped over to the little wood shelf where the bettas sit and put the little red guy back and had fully intended to walk out the door and leave my half-full cart sit right in front of her in the aisle.
Before that day (which was a couple of days before my son's birthday) he had been rambling on about which video game system he wanted, dvds and cds he wanted, which games, etc. for his bday. However - at that second he said "Mom. I just decided what I want for my birthday. I want to rescue that fish. Please?"
So I gave the woman an evil look, grabbed the fish and stormed off. That's how we got Jack. We picked up a minibow (blue, of course) on the way home.
And then there was the time when the bf came into our bedroom late after work one night, and I had just moved Harvey into our room onto a bookshelf. He flipped on the closet light and I heard a faint little... "Hey Harv! Don't look buddy, daddy's gonna take his pants off now and put on his jammies."
I think they have sorta taken a liking to them. They know better than to fight it.
I think some pictures are in order here... 
Of course, they all come into my room and talk to my fish and feed them when they don't think I'm looking. 
