Those few of you that follow my writing, know that I’m a proud Ranger dad and I love writing about my 3 boys. It’s a never-ending stream of material. They are boys, and mine at that, so they constantly do what one would call “dumb shit.” It’s great, frustrating, aggravating, and most of all rewarding.
Now, those few of you that know me well, know I am borderline obsessed with bass fishing. So naturally, I wanted to pass that passion down to my boys. Naturally, it was a god damned cat rodeo. Why I didn’t see this coming is beyond me. I have come to the conclusion that I am a moron and need adult supervision, when being the supervising adult. Or maybe just think things through…
March 21, 2015
As I’m sitting at the house I notice I’m getting that familiar itch. That itch that I need to get out. Need to do something. Need to create adventure. Or as my wife calls it, my 6 year old need to be entertained. She is correct. I realize that I am soooooooooo bored. Really, I’m just a little bored and want to go fishing really bad. So, I figure if I bug my wife just the right amount, she’ll get fed up and gimme the boot for the afternoon. I decide this is a brilliant plan with no down side.
As I get ready implement my plan of action, my wife confides in me that she feels like garbage and the kids are driving her batshit crazy. I listen to her. I hear her. I ask, “Can I go fishing?” She stares at me for a solid 20 seconds. I know she is appalled and angry. I decide to say something. “Soooooooo?……” falls out of my speaking hole. I decide my plan may be flawed
Common sense grabs ahold of me and tells me to find another way to go fishing. I contemplate playing with her hair until she falls asleep, telling the 11 year old to watch his brothers, and sneak out with my tackle. I realize that if I do this, I am a bad parent. And that I will not have sex for a while. I decide to be a good parent.
I decide to take my boys fishing.
I have told the boys we are going fishing. They are pumped. I have all the little kids poles, tackle, bug spray, sunscreen, closed toe shoes (because it’s Georgia and fire ants are assholes), extra clothes, towels, snacks, and water. We are loaded into the car and on the way to the pond.
We arrive at the pond and park. As soon as I open the door, Caleb jumps out, starts sprinting through the parking lot, screaming “RAAAAAWWWWR” at the top of his lungs. I have no idea why. I tell him to be quiet or he will scare away the fish. I have no idea why I say this, as I have no clue if the fish can hear him. I move on from Caleb’s screaming and get all our gear down to the water’s edge. I told Caden to watch his little brothers. Forty seconds later I look back and Caden is Haji-squatting watching a bug on the ground, Caleb is swinging his fishing pole wildly about, and Colton is throwing rocks in the pond. The amount of frustrating stimuli is too much to compute at once. I pause and issue a blanket scolding, “Hey, you! Stop being a meat head!!!!” They all three stop immediately. I am impressed with my parenting skills.
I have all of their individual poles set up. Caden is using the spinning reel. Caleb has the spin cast Zebco. Colton has a Spiderman spin cast. For those that don’t know, a spin cast is the push button reel.
I call all the boys down and tell them to get by their poles. All the boys do as they are told. Except Caleb. The excitement is just too much. As the boys are walking up I tell them to not get to close to the edge. Caleb walks forward, picks up his pole, and just keeps walking right over the edge. When he realizes what is going on, he panics and jumps. He jumps foreward into the damn pond. I am dumbfounded. I freeze, wondering what in God’s name I just saw my child do. I snap out of it and jump in after him. It’s murky, so I cant tell how deep it is. The water is up to my knees, Caleb’s waist. I drag him out of the drink and ask him what the hell he was doing. His no shit response was “I accidentally jumped in.” I say nothing. I grab him and the youngest and go back to the car to change his clothes. I tell the oldest boy to go ahead and start fishing. I am proud of myself for thinking ahead and bringing extra clothes.
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