Somehow my Diva Jr, who is seven, got it in her head that she really wants to go fishing. So, finally, after a summer of begging, followed by a lot of those guilt tricks (you know what I’m talking about) my husband and I gave in this past Sunday.

Now, keep in mind, neither of us knows the first thing about fishing. We camp, but for us, camping consists of a trailer, a fire and drinks. There’s no boating or fishing involved.

So off we went to an island in our area, armed with two Sponge Bob fishing poles and a bucket that I use to mop the kitchen. (I hear you laughing out there honey).

Our first challenge, of course, is the thick squirmy earthworms. Now, I had no idea that these little guys could feel themselves being put on a hook. But, if you’ve done this, you know they squirm like crazy, and it’s a little disconcerting. Needless to say, we lost several when I freaked out and dropped them.

For children, the best part of fishing is casting. So, most of our two-hour long adventure consisted of watching the kids throw and pull in, over and over and over. Of course, you’re not going to catch any fish that way, and the children quickly lost interest.

Stealing my son’s Sponge Bob pole, I decided to give it a go. On my very first cast, I caught the tree. On my second, I caught the back of my husband’s head. But, on my third cast, I finally put the peeved worm into the middle of the river, and determined to wait however long it took to give these kids a fish.

Luckily, it wasn’t too long, and I reeled in a sunfish about the size of my palm. We plopped it in the bucket, and Diva Jr. instantly named it “Greasy.”

The problem with Greasy, though, was that he pretty much swallowed the worm and the hook. My husband and I looked at each other, realizing neither of us knew the process for unhooking a fish. Don’t get me wrong (PETA), we tried to unhook the poor little guy. But after about 5 minutes, Greasy was starting to go bottom up, while my husband was worrying about rescuing the $12 Sponge Bob pole. Being amateurs, neither of us had thought to bring scissor or a knife. Greasy had to come off…I mean, come on, the pole was new. And it wasn’t even on sale!

I distracted the kids while my husband dealt with the carnage of getting Greasy off the hook. The story is that Greasy missed his family and jumped back into the river, and I expect you all to back me up on this.

Needless to say my daughter was heartbroken over Greasy. She’d had her heart set on either putting him in the fishbowl or, at least, cooking him up and eating him (this is how her 7 year old mind really works). So, in order to alleviate the pain of losing her new pet, we did what any good parent would do.

Stopped at the pet store and bought a goldfish on the way home.

She named him Greasy, Jr.

girls, fishing, fun

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