The boy and I went fishing last weekend as part of the ward’s Fathers-and-sons campout. The campground was next to a little lake that is stocked weekly with trout, so the fishing was good. Good, that is, if you don’t use the lures that come with the little fishing-pole-and-tackle combo that your dad (i.e., me) bought you because he doesn’t know anything about fishing. After about 6 hours of determinedly fishing with lures the were ridiculously big and not catching anything but watching everyone around him pull fish out of the lake with almost no effort, we got someone who actually knows what he was doing to show us how to set up the hook and bait. K had success almost immediately and caught two fish in a row. He had plans for how he was going to cook them before we even got them back to the car. Here’s the result: “the tastiest fish ever”.

My main contribution to the affair was to sit next to him on the bank reading my book and humming this song.



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