Down at the Fishin' Hole

A few months ago, my children started asking me when they could go fishing. Where this request came from is a mystery, as neither I, nor my other half, has ever fished (or honestly, wanted to).

I think they were remembering that a couple of years ago when we were at the beach (as we are this week) we saw some people fishing. And I guess knowing that we were coming back to the beach made them want to try it out? Who knows.

Anyway, I said "We'll see", as I often do. And then I saw these sets of fishing gear for kids at Target. And for that moment it seemed like a fun and do-able thing. All those funky little lures, hooks, rubber fish. Fun!

So I bought them, and I stashed them in the closet. And when we were packing for the beach I got them out and brought them along.

The rubber hit the road this morning as, for the 5,000th time, Sprout asked when we were going fishing. It was a little chilly out, too windy for the beach. So today it was.

We put the rods together, got out the (very scary) hooks - we used the ones that look like little feather bugs. Right for the conditions? Who knows.

Bait? Hot dogs. Cut up small-ish. Not in a big hurry to invest in a stash of worms.

So we went a couple of blocks over to the bay, where people were lined up fishing. And a little bitty girl had just caught a itty bitty-ish fish.

So the kids were all excited. Me, not so much.

I have this tendency to anticipate the potential dangerous repercussions of any activity (I worked at DuPont for 5 years - they beat this kind of thinking into you). So putting sharp objects into the hands of children that they will FLING into the air, heart-stoppingly close to other people. Not my idea of a good time.

Hot dogs on, and the casting began. Once we figured out what button had to be pushed to let the string (line?) loose, we were good to go. Sprout is a decent caster. Tater wasn't actually allowed to do it himself, but he was a good helper.

The little bobber thing kept floating right back over to the dock that we were standing on, so lots of recasting (flying sharp things) was required. Big fun.

The fish stole our hot dogs.

Then the guy next to us (with the itty bitty fish-catching child) offered us his left-over squid to use as bait. Said the fish liked it.

I don't know what I expected when I opened the squid box. Fried calamari rings? But it was squid. Like whole, tentacle-wearing squid. In a box. Horrifying.


I don't even like to touch raw chicken. And I have to rip a chunk off of a squid and stick it on a hook? Luckily I had brought scissors (expecting to have to cut a fish loose if we were lucky enough to catch it). I managed to minimize finger contact with the squid and get it hooked on. I am not sure I will recover from that.

The fish did like the squid. Took it right off the hooks. Yum.

We never caught anything. But the kids are interested in when we can try fishing again. I am thinking when they are old enough to cut up their own squid.