Fishing is one of those things that I’ll always remember doing with my dad. Each of us kids had our own fishing poles growing up, and there are many, many pictures of me (from a little kid barely able to stand on the dock right up through high school) holding a squirming fish on the end of my pole: looking part triumphant and part grossed out. Such as:
Yep. I’m totally rocking that life jacket.
And, while I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite thing in the world to do (and certainly NOT worth getting up at 4:30am for while on vacation just to get the “best fishing” – though my dad would insist otherwise), I can cast my own pole and bait my own hook, and DID actually sometimes snag a fish or two on my own. I think my best ever catch ever was a 32″ Northern Pike up on the St Laurence River. Despite a somewhat failed lesson in the sturdiness of fishing poles…(right dad?)
Yesterday, my dad got to share his love of fishing with the next generation. Grandpa and Oliver headed over to the neighbor’s pond to see what they could catch, and mom, of course, grabbed her camera.
Too stinkin’ cute. Love you, Dad (Bah’pa). 🙂