Con (Michael's dad) loves to go fishing. He likes to head down to Duck Valley Indian Reservation and he always invites us to go. Michael and I have gone with him a handful of times. Each time I've been in varying stages of pregnancy and I was always miserable. Fresh fish and morning sickness do not go well together. Neither does sleeping on an air mattress that is slowly deflating and being 8 months pregnant. They have not been fun trips. Plus it is usually windy and rainy. But I go because Michael and Con love it.Then there was this year. The weather was miserable before we got there and it started blowing and raining as we were leaving. But the 2 1/2 days in between were lovely. It got pretty cold at night but the sun was out during the day and the wind didn't blow too hard. It was much nicer than we or the weatherman expected.
The kids love this water pump. When we pulled into the campground it was the first thing the kids looked for. They wanted to play with the pump they played with last year. So here they are. And everyone is smiling because unlike last year nobody hit themselves in the head with the handle.
They also love these concrete tubes. Why are there concrete tubes in the middle of the campground? I have no idea. But they make for excellent climbing.
Grandpa took the kids and I out in the boat for a little fishing. Grace was not happy. Not happy at all. She started fussing as soon as the boat started rocking and started in on full-fledged crying as the boat pulled away from shore. She kept calling for her "Da da!" as she saw him safely standing on the bank.
Fishing is not all it's cracked up to be.
She did get happier once Libby caught a fish. She spent the rest of the trip pointing and saying "Dish! Dish!" If you didn't acknowledge her by saying, "Yes, that's a fish," she would keep saying it louder and louder. Then two minutes later she would start the same conversation over again. The next time Grandpa took out the boat we figured we would spare Grace the pain and keep her at camp. She saw Ethan and Libby getting their life jackets, promptly grabbed hers and went around to all the adults thumping her chest and yelling "Dace! DACE! (Grace)" until she got someone to put it on her. She was going to go get a "dish."
I came back from fishing to find a lovely roaring campfire. Ethan told me he made it and I smiled indulgently. Michael then backed him up. This is the fire Ethan built, Michael tweaked minutely, and Ethan lit with one match. Take that Boy Scouts of America!
Libby loved to fish, she just didn't enjoy actually catching anything. She told Michael it was because she was afraid the fish were going to bite her, but he assured her it wasn't so. She told me it's because they're creepy. Either way, as soon as she hooks a fish "fishing" has lost its glamor. She's a lot like me that way.
And last but not least: Here is a big man with a little fish. (Michael says size is relative and you have to remember he is a big man and so that is not necessarily a little fish. Just smile and nod - it's what I do.)
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