I’ve worked hard to get my kids out fishing on afternoons where there’s no school. It means getting my day job work done ahead of time and packing the night before so we can leave as soon as the morning calls wrap up. The past weeks required a little stream side conference calling and after lunch we headed up river. I was so pumped to finally have a few hours to fish with them. We went fishing alright.
We’d started our day with a tired 6yo – his birthday in fact – and our mourning routine had quite a bit of grumbling from all parties. I put in some time at the desk in the morning and continued on the speaker while we drove to the river. I’ll say that fishing is usually about an hour for us in the winter – if we’re lucky. It’s not an epic day of beating the water. The little hands freeze up fast and the hot chocolate starts calling. So, after feeling like I neglected my boys while talking on the phone for hours, we cleaned up lunch and geared up. If I ever complained about helping clients get dressed for the water I’m sorry. Wrestling waders on two little boys and then myself results in much sweat and cold hands!
Two rigged rods in hand, we made our trek up river. I was hopeful! I’d tied a handful of fresh small wooly buggers the night before and we were headed for a rematch with some fish that had not made it to the net the week before. My guys’ little legs made it quite far upstream and, just as we were about to go over the bank I hear the tired voice of the birthday boy say:
“I want to go home.”
“Wait, what?” I said. Surely I misheard! Could I be sweating through my many layers only to hear THIS?
“I just want to go back to the truck and go home.” Jake said.
Let’s sit on this log and talk this over” I asked, hoping to rally the troops.
Luke chimed in, “If he doesn’t want to fish, I’m ok if we go home too.”
“OK,” I sighed, “let’s head back to the truck and we can fire up a movie for the ride home”
I was deflated. We never made it into the water. I was feeling somewhere between the father from Christmas Story after the Bumpass Hounds at the turkey and the dad from A River Runs Through It – “Boys, what have you done?”
Obviously my kids were not giving up on trout fishing, they were just tired. This came to me on the long walk back to the truck where their spirits remained surprisingly high; better than they were doing while fist-fighting during lunch while I tried to do work on the tailgate. But we never even got our boots wet. They were muddy and I got some alone time that night while hosing things off in the cold out back.
Later that night my older son said, at bedtime, that he couldn’t wait to do it again. The little one even said he had fun. I have to remember that they’re young and 90% of the fun is taking a drive with “the old man” (as Luke calls me) and having lunch and snacks and hot chocolate and 10% is the fishing. Given the current events, I think I can settle for the weighting being more toward the family time.
