Go Fish...

Little Deedle Dumpling, I fear, is getting in touch with her inherited redneck roots. This, I hesitantly and reluctantly admit, comes from my side of the family. (Although I believe Bobo's Klingon roots stem from her mother's side!) Deedle has had her share of enjoying a cruise on a passenger vessel ranging from river dinner cruises, to paddlewheel excursions, to a full-fledged Alaskan cruise chock full of icebergs and glaciers and Juneau (oh my!) & all that fun stuff that kids love. But the other day we crossed a bridge where Deedle spotted below us a dingy on the river with four men which appeared to be holding long sticks. "What's that?" she asked. "That's a boat dear." "What are those men doing?" "They're fishing, honey. That's a fishing boat." "What are those sticks?" "Those are fishing poles. They hang a line from the pole into the water and catch fish." "I want to go fishing." Red alert! No! Head 'er off at the pass! I swore off fishing years ago. It's messy, and smelly, and who wants to sit for hours trying to catch a stream trout when you can get perfectly good fresh fish at Red Lobster. (mmmmm.....lobster) Besides, I can't shell out thousands of dollars on fishing gear, rods, reels, spinners, dancers, bleeders, buzzers, crankers, plus a boat load of Wet-Ones to clean oneself, not to mention the boat itself. So I chose to take the path of truth with this one, hoping it would dissuade my innocent girl made of sugar and spice and everything nice. "But do you know what you do after you catch the fish?" "Eat 'em!" she said gleefully. "Well," I said, choosing my words carefully, "you have to kill them first. Then you gotta cut their heads off and pull their guts out and clean them really good before you eat them." There, that should gross out a 5-yr old girl who loves My Little Pony more than life itself. Without missing a beat she said, "I'll kill 'em, Daddy! I'll kill 'em and cut 'em up. I'll just chop off their heads with a knife." Oh, my darling angelic girl. What has corrupted you? Was it the Tele? Did my father put you up to this? Did you overhear your father rehersing Sweeney Todd & crooning about slicing throats? Next you're gonna tell me you want to go hunting for elk in Livingston, Montana. "Really? You want to do that, Sweetie?" "Yeah! But first I'm gonna name the fish. I'll say, 'your name is Charlie', then I'll chop off his head." Charlie the trout, wherever you are, beware! We're bringing our mini-rod & spinner and comin' for ya! Hey, maybe I can justify buying that new boat now.