If anyone here knows me very well, they could confirm I have a love for fishing. Living in Florida is awesome since I have access to several realms of fishing from Freshwater, Brackish (Mixed), and Saltwater fishing. As a young girl, I mainly did the freshwater fishing with the occasional deep sea trip. Nowadays, my husband and I indulge in brackish fishing where Salt meets Fresh.
Anyhow, many awkward and weird things can go down and so I have MANY fishing stories. This one is from back in April when my friend visited. This is a short and sweet read:
I had left my husband and friend Steph back at the end of the dock with the baby while I took the 4 year old to the bathroom for the 100th time it seemed. After finishing his business, I decided it was time to acquire a toy for entertainment from the truck. We had brought his beach toys, which included a large plastic dump truck.
The excitement in his eyes was undeniable, and he was having a blast driving it down the dock. An old couple were cast netting over the side and the man had just slumped the net on the dock to see what he caught. It was a bunch of menhadens, and all us fisherman frowned since they are useless in regards to what we needed to lure our favored catches.
They turned to my super-excited 4 year old and asked, “You want me to put them in your dump truck?”
Which he squealed, “YES! YES! YES!”
So now we were ‘driving’ down the dock with our truck load of menhaden. He was giggling and having a good time. As we approached my Husband and pal Steph she looked over and freaked. She grabbed up the dump truck and unloaded the fish pile back into the water. At first the 4 year old was dumbfounded. She put the truck back on the ground and he saw that his prize load was GONE. He started crying, naturally.
“But they were going to die?” Steph was confused since the child was crying and my husband and I were dying in laughter. “You weren’t going to let him keep them ALL?”
“”Well,” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I usually let him feed the birds with those… but now they’re all gone.”
“OH! I am so sorry!” She looked about, and somehow one fish had missed his escape as he flopped on the ground. “Here! This one can take one for the team!”
Hours later, it was time to go. The 4 year old had played with the one fish load dump truck the whole time. Once more he began crying, “My fish! MY FISH!”
The birds had been spoked by his outcry and I was resorting to throwing the dead fish into the water. He stomped his feet and crossed his arms as it hit the water.
“Buddy, we can’t take the fish with us and your scared all the birds away.” I reasoned with him.
“I wanted to eat it!” He huffed.
“EAT IT?” Steph was laughing now.
“I! WANT! MY! FISH! SAMMICH!”
In short, we had to get him a tuna-fish sub at subway later on to make up for our horrible taboo.
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