My son, Edward, is almost two and a half. He's picking up new words every day and doing his best to copy me. When I put him in the car seat, he looks up at my ceiling at the fishing rods and yells, "Poles!" I spent ten bucks on a kid's rod several months ago, and we've played with it in the back yard, but this was his first time to put it to the test.
After his nap the other day, I asked if he would like to go fishing. His response was, "Feeshin! Yay!" We grabbed his pole and put it in the back of the truck. We stopped by a gas station for the southern staples of lemonade and pork rinds and headed to the Lassiter Mill Dam. For the entire ride, all he could say was "Feesh, feesh, feesh."
We parked and walked down to the creek. I tied a weighted bobber onto his line and let him have at it. No hook was needed that day. I watched him push the button on the back of the reel and try to get that line in the water. Apart from clearing a few tangles, I just let him go with it. I tied a lure on my own rod and began casting, watching him out of the corner of my eye.
After a while, he began squealing with joy as the bobber would fly farther and farther with each cast. Edward would cast, squeal, and reel with delight. When I moved a few yards along the shore, he moved with me. I realized he was trying to cast to the same places that I was casting. We did this for a solid hour and a half, when his attention had waned and it was time to think about supper.
I learned a lot that afternoon. I didn't spend any time checking the weather or gathering gear. I didn't worry about fish species or lure choices because catching a fish wasn't the goal. I learned that a little boy doesn't need electricity or batteries or lights or buzzers to have a good time being a little boy, and dads don't need that stuff, either.
All we need is a snack and a buddy to have a great time.
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