Fishing with our crew is always an adventure. Or, more accurately, a misadventure. Nevertheless, every year on Father's Day, we pack up the rods, bait, tackle, and family, and head out. Ok, so "we", in this case, refers to "David"...I grab the really important stuff, like my hoodie (in case a rare June lake wind blows in), oh, and the camera.
Our bug spray was nowhere to be found, so a quick stop had to be made at the drugstore. Drue's blood attracts all bugs known to mankind. The girl can get 5 humongous bites just going from the house to the car. As David ran in to get the spray, I turned around in my seat and gave the kids a mini lecture. "Now listen up, this is Daddy's day. Let's try and make this a fun outing for him. No whining, fighting, complaining about the heat, bugs, etc. Basically, just act like different children for a few peaceful hours."
Upon David's return, he tossed the spray into the backseat. Tate clutched it to his chest, as though it were the last bottle in the free world, and exclaimed loudly, "I get to be the first one to have it put on!" Perhaps he hadn't paid as close attention to my speech as I would have liked.
Good-bye warm, sandy beach fishing. Hello, steep rocky bank we practically had to rappel down with all our equipment. David has one rule during these excursions: If you hook any part of his body, you have to sit out. Thankfully, hooking his shirt doesn't count, because that occurred at least twice. My one rule is: If I see a snake, or any twig resembling one, I'm outta there and will hitchhike home. It doesn't even have to be to our home.
Drue brought her pole to me about every 45 seconds for a new worm. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that every time her bobber went under, she was gazing at the trees around us, or at the pretty butterfly that had landed on her shirt. She wanted nothing to with the worms at all. This was our child who used to enjoy playing with the worms more than she did actually fishing. So I said to her, "Drue, you used to love worms, and play with them all the time. What happened?" She crinkled up her nose and said, "Well, I don't like them anymore. They've turned on me." I was just glad to finally be getting rid of these creepy crawly things that have been taking up residence in my refrigerator for far too long.
We made it back to the car with most of the stuff, and as David was packing everything into the trunk, I was standing there doing nothing. So I had the considerate idea to rappel back down and grab the bucket with Joey in it. After I hiked back up with the 50 pound bucket of water, David proceeded to grab it and pour out at least 25 pounds of the water, so it wouldn't slosh too much on the ride home. The thought crossed my mind to pour the other 25 pounds of water on top of his head, which I probably would have followed through with if I hadn't been too tired to lift it.
David cleaned Joey when we got home and Tate ran inside to tell me, "We got all the chicken out!" I peered into the bowl and saw 3 little nugget sized pieces of Joey. Tate reassured me saying, "He's with Jesus now."
Next year, I'm think I'll just hook David in the ear first thing, so I can sit out...on the beach.