My son has a romantic notion of fishing. He’s been a few times when he was much younger and he seems to have forgotten the less attractive side of fishing, like: waiting, putting crickets on the hook, waiting, tolerating the heat, waiting, taking the fish off the hook, waiting…
He’s begged to go fishing this summer, so because I’m a really good mother (okay, he was driving me crazy) I took him and a friend to the local park for some fish’n.
But first, we had to stop here. Does this place scream character or what?
For $4.60 they got about 20 crickets and some fishing advice, like stick the hook through the cricket’s head because it’s thicker there. I’ve never cared much for crickets. When they get loose in the house, they drive you batty and I usually have to squash them with my shoe, but nobody deserves a hook through the head.
The only thing more boring than fishing, is watching someone fishing.
After about forty minutes, the excitement was over and the boys spent the rest of the afternoon sliding down some very slippery rocks. Now, that looked like fun so I took off my socks and shoes and walked across. Nothing says you’re old like hearing your son say, “Don’t break a hip, Mom.”
So all in all it was a great way to spend a summer day. In summary –
Crickets: 2 bite the dust, 18 are pardoned
Broken Hips: 0
Cell Phone: -1 That’s right. Somehow the cell phone fell out of his pocket while he was casting.