Here fishy, fishy...

We met Grandpa Russ at Deer Creek Reservoir last Saturday after he had sent us a pix message the weekend before, his catch barely fitting inside his 18" wide sink. We hadn't been fishing for some time or seen Grandpa since the archery deer hunt, so it seemed like an awesome day trip.

We were late - as usual - but not by much (the girls do not function at 5:30 in the morning), and as we crest the hill in search of where Grandpa was, we saw Ruger already getting a good scratch around the ears. Russ said he watched Ruger, 30 feet away, making a bee-line along the rocks when, just as he was about to pass Russ up, Ruger made a sharp turn and ran straight to him. Ruger sure knows his people!

The fishing was slow going at first, fish weren't even jumping. So after teaching Chey to slide down the rocks and sand on her butt instead of screaming, the kids all started digging and playing.

Then Jason caught the first fish! Ruger came bounding over through the water to watch Jason net it and Chey squealed YEAH. Ruger licked the fish while Abriana and Kayla cheered Dad on, too. Chey kept clapping and screaming with excitement trying to get a close look at it, then it flopped. She shrieked and fell over in her haste to get away! But as soon as it stopped moving, she was leaning over it again. And again it flopped and she shrieked and...funny kids.

I caught the next one, which was just a bit smaller than the first one. Sorry, no picture of that one.

Then, as I was getting after Abriana to put her socks back on - "but my feet are sweaty! FINE!" - I saw her pole dive into the water.

"Abriana, your pole!"

"What!? I don't have my shoes on!"

Some people's children - oh, yea, they're mine. She finally got over there, saved her pole and reeled in a fish just as big as Jason's. She was so excited, she's never caught a fish that big!


Jason caught another fish proportionate to the other 3. My second one decided he wasn't going to let me win and broke my line. Abriana must've had the same one come along trying to satisfy his hunger for power bait, because she lost her hook with her second one. Russ kept wondering when it was his turn - I guess he forgot his fish call.

Again Cheyenne was over at the flip-flopping fish; screaming each time they moved and trying to touch them every time they weren't. Then she decided she had enough fun with that and now it's time to lay down. But oh, where was that binki? We searched up hill and down, under rocks and through sand castles, even along the shore line. Sorry missy, you're just going to have to lay down without it. Yeah, right! She cried and scowled and screamed, but finally sleep was too much to hold off, she curled up on Jason's jacket and accepted her defeat!

Russ decided it was time to take a walk. Jason and I were admiring Russ's pole; he was telling me that pole has got to be older than he and I put together, when it twitched. Jason hollered up the hill to get Russ to hurry as he set the hook. Russ arrived to reel in the long awaited fish, Jason ready with the net. It was close, almost there, but then there was a pop. Pieces of the reel fell into the water.

We tried for some time to get it back together and thinking we were missing a part, searched the bank. Nope, the reel is broken, not repairable. I asked Jason if I should've kept my mouth shut about the pole. His reply was that maybe Russ wouldn't have gotten a fish if we weren't discussing it. Who knows.

So we decided it was time to pack up. Everyone said their good-bye's and then Ruger hobbled over to us. Poor old dog somehow over-extended two of his toes, and it hurts too bad to put weight on it. We loaded the bunch up and headed home. After half an hour I started wishing I had brought some drinks. The screams and cries from right behind me for 'me-me' were getting to be too much; we still had an hour or so to drive. If it hadn't already been our goal to be done with it, I would've made Jason pull over to buy a stupid plug. She was already only wanting it at naptime and bedtime, so this was our chance, I mean, what else to say to her except "you lost it, it's all gone."

We got home, unloaded the jeep, and I was changing when Jason came in. "I'm such a bad dad," he said. I looked at him and said, "YOU have the binki?!" It was in his coat pocket. At the time of the search he wasn't wearing it, so he didn't think to check those pockets. We decided that we had already come this far without it, so we hid it well. I am glad to say that the crying for the 'me-me' hasn't been as awful as that first day. She still has not had it. And Jason isn't a 'bad dad.'