The Big Catch

Last week, a good friend of ours took the boys on a fishing expedition. They'd been looking forward to it for weeks, and even though the forecast was grim (read wind, rain, floods, etc.), their outlook was sunny.


Jack caught the first (and biggest) fish of the day. He was shocked, thrilled, brave, and strong. He reeled it in all by himself, with great care and thought.




When the next line tugged, it was Grant's turn. He bravely reeled the line up into the boat, guided by Steve.


He then stood by watching Alan hook the fish on to the hand-held scale. He held the scale and posed for a picture.


As soon as the camera went "click", so did Grant. He dropped the fish—scale and all—and ran into Steve's arms sobbing. I'm not sure if he was scared of the fish, or bothered by the fact that the creature who moments before had been happily swimming through the water was now flopping around on the boat gasping for air.

In all, six handsome trout met their demise that day.



The highlight for both boys was the fact that there was no "mom" on the boat. When they were hungry (which was about 5 minutes after they left the dock, and every 5 minutes for the rest of the day), Steve and Alan told them to grab something out of the cooler. They ate whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted for the whole entire day. When they got home, I asked what they had for lunch. "Oreos and Ritz crackers, chips, and juice pouches."


Jack couldn't wait to eat the fish. We made fish tacos when we got home. Grant wanted nothing to do with it. Who knows if he'll ever eat fish again. Heaven help us if he figures out where beef, pork, or chicken come from . . . we may have a future vegetarian on our hands!