I found some old photos I thought I’d share. These are from early spring – when you still needed a sweatshirt, remember those days? I want them back. Now.
My son had really wanted to go fishing, begged us for weeks and weeks. We finally gave in and met some family to enjoy a day on the water.
Shockingly, my girl wasn’t into it. Not shocking in an ironic way – shocking because she’s usually such a good sport about everything.
She tried to get out of it – but we made her go. Insert the eye rolling.
Last summer my boy had gone to a fishing camp for a week, so he had all his own equipment – his own bait, and his own tackle kit (is that what you call that box with all the disgusting stuff in it?). He was ready.
I had planned on taking a couple of chairs and hanging out in the sun while the boys fished – I told my daughter she could join me – more eye rolling.
Here’s how it went down:
Here’s the boy, excited, dimpled, and ready to catch some fish!
Then the waiting game begins. This is normal, people tell me. “You have to be patient”, I tell him. “Give it time”, I say.
This is 40 minutes in.
This is 80 minutes in – he looks over at me in my chair, taking a million pictures and having coffee – I tell him to hang in there.
At this point my daughter is bored and decides to pick up one of the…tees, hooks, lines….what’s that thing called? Rod!
Two seconds later. Or maybe less. This happened.
She caught a fish. This is the look that all sisters give their brothers to torture them.
This is the look he gave her back….I imagine him saying,”Son of a B*%#h!!!”
Here’s the first of FIVE fish she caught within 1/2 an hour. All with UGGs on.