The lake by our house has been getting a lot of use lately. The home owners' association filled it with trout for their annual fishing derby and they allowed fishing for the whole week after the event. This was a great opportunity for Paul and Liam to finally break in their new fishing poles. The first time they went, Paul said that he spent the first half of their trip learning how to use the darn thing and the second half of the trip feeling frustrated with Liam who kept crossing lines with Paul or getting his line stuck up in the trees or complaining about how they weren't catching anything. A teenage boy finally told them what they were doing wrong and tossed them a pity fish that ended up being gutted and pretty badly mutilated in my kitchen sink.
The next time they went Paul caught a fish that they were both very proud of and on the third day they actually caught THREE fish, 2 of which were on Liam's pole. Only one of them actually made it home since one fish literally jumped out of Paul's hands and the other was reeled in from the water along with a random fishing pole that caused the line to snap. This sent Liam into quite the bad mood and resulted in statements like, "That was probably the last fish in the lake and now that guy over there is going to catch it." And, "I am not leaving this lake until I catch another fish." along with, "I am never going fishing again! This is all your fault!" etcetera etcetera. He eventually recovered and we ended up feeding the ducks then taking a long walk to the park where the kids ran off the rest of their energy. And the fish that made it home was beautifully filleted... by Paul.








