This is what pride in your children feels like ( in your case, dear reader, reads like.) On our recent trip to Arbutus Lake (see "Ah, Quasi Wilderness") Rhonwyn wanted to use the fishing rod and reel I gave to her for her fifth birthday last month. So we went down the slope from our campsite to the lake and practiced casting for awhile with a weighted plug on the end of the line. A day later I purchased some Fancy, Imported Crawlers (they were from Canada).
When the time came to actually fish, Rhonwyn, in typical five-year-old girl fashion refused to bait the hook. OK, I think when I was her age I made my grandpa do the same thing. We cast a few times, lost some worms to weeds, logs, and nibbles, but received nothing for casting our worm out on the waters.
We stopped because we had to finish packing up to leave, but I wanted to give her one more chance. After the packing was finished we drove a short way over to the boat launch. I, once again, did my dadly duty and hooked the squiggling worm. I helped her cast the line and turned around to do something else.
"Dad, I got a fish."
I replied incredulously, "No, you don't, Rhonwyn"
"Yes, Dad, I got a fish."
I turned around and sure enough, the rod was trembling, the water was disturbed, and a flash of white caught my eyes.
I helped her reel in--Her First Fish--a four-inch blue gill.
She was ecstatic and I. . . I felt like a dad should feel--so proud and in love with my child.
Of course she wouldn't hold it or unhook it, but still--she caught a fish!
Next year we're booking a charter.