It was raining this morning when I dragged my tired self out to the annual fishing derby. I was tempted to stay home. Numero Uno was up at 6, ready for his Papa to pick him up on the way there, Dos was at cub scout camp with Savageman, and Tres wouldn't have known the difference. Still, it was a tradition, even in the rain.
As it turns out, fish like to bite little rubber worms when it rains. A record number of fish were caught (and released), and Uno actually caught several himself, which was a real thrill. When it was time to pack up and go, he wanted to stay and do more, so we stayed while he caught another three fish. The next few hours were spent wandering through sporting goods stores looking for the same lures he had used to catch all these fish (because it had to be those exact lures - nothing else was acceptable).
By the time we found the right lures, my enthusiasm for Uno's new passion was beginning to wear thin. I reluctantly agreed to go back to the scene of the morning's fishy bonanza, only because he had left his tackle box there and we had to go back anyway to get it. The list of things I had been hoping to accomplish today at home was beginning to grow. The thought of sitting on a dock, trying to keep Numero Tres from getting drenched, twiddling my thumbs while Uno fished and the list of chores grew more and more urgent in my brain - well, let's just say it wasn't a good thought.
So I trudged down to the creek with the biggest and the littlest Savage, and spent about 10 minutes working the fishhooks out of the flap of Uno's pocket, where he had cleverly decided to store them, not realizing that the little barbs at the end of the hooks would keep them from being removed from the fabric without a fight.
Once the hooks were removed, the fishing began and the little Savage got himself immediately drenched. At least I didn't spend an hour trying to keep him from getting drenched first. We waded in the creek and put shells and rocks in his little pail. He picked up handfuls of little shells and pebbles and threw them into the air to watch them fall around him back into the water. Over and over. I laid on the pier and watched the clouds, my feet hanging in the cool water. Listened to the birds and the water and the trees and the occasional whoop from Uno as he caught (and released) seven more fish. Tres babbled to himself and made up some story featuring the rocks he had collected.
Time stood still.
I couldn't believe I had resisted coming back and sitting here surrounded by all this fresh air and peace. The only reason I'm not still sitting there, watching the moon rise over the trees, is that the Baby Savage started complaining about being hungry and wanting dinner. Uno would have stayed too. He'd have still been fishing there at 2am if I had let him.
2am. Yeah, I guess I should get to bed. Numero Dos and Savageman will be arriving back from their wet weekend in the woods early tomorrow morning.
I hope they had as good a time as we did.