Hook, Line, and Stinker

Zachary’s thoughts kept drifting off toward the lake this morning during math. I knew he was excited about the middle school boy’s fishing trip this afternoon. Shortly after eleven, he ran to the garage to get his gear and I packed a lunch for him. He wanted me to pack the other boys a lunch too and come back to the lake in time to eat with everyone afterwards. I packed the other lunches but was dubious as to whether I would lunch at the lake; I had a headache that had lasted all night and was mounting in intensity again.

As I pulled into the state park just about 5 minutes before noon, I was surprised to see that there were no other parents. I drove to the other side—unsure of exactly where we were to meet—no one was there. Zachary was visibly disappointed and so I, in a moment of weakness, suggested that we just stay and fish. I called David to tell him what I was going to do. “I am so proud of you,” he gushed, knowing full well what I was in for…

Because a permit was required and one must have a license to get a permit, I drove 10 miles to the local Wal-Mart to purchase a license. 2 HOURS (no fault of my own!) later I pulled back in to the park.

I had not even gotten my body down the hill to the lake when Samuel got his line snagged the first time. After repeatedly snagging his line and then MY FACE, he lost interest in fishing and moved on to his first love: food.

Samuel ate like he does everything else--with great fervor--and then decided that riding Seth’s tricycle down the hill over the slats of the wooden bridge –doing 60 if anything—was a considerable diversion! When those tricycle tires made contact with that rickety old bridge, I can assure you, nobody was catching fish!

Hauling our stuff back Up. The. Hill, I muttered to myself to express to David how proud I am of him when he takes the boys fishing on Saturday.

And I’ll pack an extra sandwich for Samuel.