TL;DR - LAMP long post about my son catching his first fish
Momma Wolfe, our son Little Wolfe, and I flew back for my brother-in-law's wedding last weekend (he's a bunker member too - congrats bro!) down in Point Clear area near the Grand Hotel. We were staying in a bayside house down on County Road 1 with a handful of my inlaws. If I lived in AL or if we'd had more free time, I might have brought my saltwater tackle down, but I didn't see anyway we were going to have time for fishing.
On the Saturday before the wedding all our family is gone doing wedding photos, luncheon, etc., except wife, son and me, and it is his nap time. He's in a pack 'n play, which he hates, and with all the hustle and excitement, he does not want to nap. Like at all.
So we are sitting there watching him on the baby monitor, and he throws out his pillow, stuffed animals, and then takes off his pants and diaper and throws them out too, all while chanting "NO NAP! NO NAP!" This is a tell-tale sign that no nap will be occurring today. Momma Wolfe is already a bit stressed out about everything she needs to do before the ceremony, and basically tells me, find something to do with "your son." (When she says "your son" it means my azz is in trouble if Little Wolfe is bad!)
I know we have to get out of the house to spare Momma's peace of mind while she "puts on her face" as they say. I remember seeing an old spinning rod in the car port. I take Little Wolfe and get this rod -- the reel is in awful shape, the rig has a large rusty hook on a leader with three BB size weights, and an old plastic coke bottle is tied as a cork and secured with electrical tape. This is truly a POS fishing rig. It's middle of the day. We have no bait. It's hot. This isn't going to be a good fishing trip.
But what the hell, it'll kill some time, so I go look through the fridge and freezer and all I can find that will stay on the hook is white bread and frozen corn dogs. I grab the bread, and throw a corndog in the microwave (what amazing appliances rich folks have these days) and get it warm enough to tear into chunks.
So there is Little Wolfe and me sitting on the break wall (our house lost its pier in the storms), fishing with a POS rig with a bite of corndog stuck on a rusty hook floating in two feet of water at most. I am thinking this will be a success if we catch a catfish or a pinfish, but that's not even likely. I look over and Little Wolfe has taken the bread, and is throwing it in the water. Now we have fifty seagulls on top of us, dive bombing the water all around our "bobber," and half the bait is gone. FML. At least Little Wolfe seems to be having fun.
Little Wolfe is LOVING seeing the birds, and is starting to run up and down the break wall, and so I get up, rod in hand, and chase him to make sure he isn't to fall in. It's been maybe 5 minutes since I cast our humble offering into the Mobile Bay for the Fish Gods. Momma Wolfe walks out to see what we are doing, and I tell her to look at how ghetto and busted our rig is with an old coke bottle for a cork, as I hand Little Wolfe to her.
"What coke bottle?" she asks.
I look back, the bottle is gone, fully submerged. Do I really have a fish on? I give the reel a couple turns, feel good resistance, and then set the hook. Momma puts Little Wolfe down between my arms and he starts reeling. A few minutes later, and we land our fish, my son's first fish ever. RULES FOLLOWED.
Little Wolfe was ECSTATIC. It's all he can talk about for the last 6 days. "Redfish! Redfish! I caught Redfish!" I am still in shock we caught that fish with an empty coke bottle and a piece of corndog. But the Fish Gods were smiling on us that day, and as my dad always says, "You can't catch any fish if your line aint in the water."
I hope all you dads and fishermen get to have a similar experience for your son's first catch!
Momma Wolfe, our son Little Wolfe, and I flew back for my brother-in-law's wedding last weekend (he's a bunker member too - congrats bro!) down in Point Clear area near the Grand Hotel. We were staying in a bayside house down on County Road 1 with a handful of my inlaws. If I lived in AL or if we'd had more free time, I might have brought my saltwater tackle down, but I didn't see anyway we were going to have time for fishing.
On the Saturday before the wedding all our family is gone doing wedding photos, luncheon, etc., except wife, son and me, and it is his nap time. He's in a pack 'n play, which he hates, and with all the hustle and excitement, he does not want to nap. Like at all.
So we are sitting there watching him on the baby monitor, and he throws out his pillow, stuffed animals, and then takes off his pants and diaper and throws them out too, all while chanting "NO NAP! NO NAP!" This is a tell-tale sign that no nap will be occurring today. Momma Wolfe is already a bit stressed out about everything she needs to do before the ceremony, and basically tells me, find something to do with "your son." (When she says "your son" it means my azz is in trouble if Little Wolfe is bad!)
I know we have to get out of the house to spare Momma's peace of mind while she "puts on her face" as they say. I remember seeing an old spinning rod in the car port. I take Little Wolfe and get this rod -- the reel is in awful shape, the rig has a large rusty hook on a leader with three BB size weights, and an old plastic coke bottle is tied as a cork and secured with electrical tape. This is truly a POS fishing rig. It's middle of the day. We have no bait. It's hot. This isn't going to be a good fishing trip.
But what the hell, it'll kill some time, so I go look through the fridge and freezer and all I can find that will stay on the hook is white bread and frozen corn dogs. I grab the bread, and throw a corndog in the microwave (what amazing appliances rich folks have these days) and get it warm enough to tear into chunks.
So there is Little Wolfe and me sitting on the break wall (our house lost its pier in the storms), fishing with a POS rig with a bite of corndog stuck on a rusty hook floating in two feet of water at most. I am thinking this will be a success if we catch a catfish or a pinfish, but that's not even likely. I look over and Little Wolfe has taken the bread, and is throwing it in the water. Now we have fifty seagulls on top of us, dive bombing the water all around our "bobber," and half the bait is gone. FML. At least Little Wolfe seems to be having fun.
Little Wolfe is LOVING seeing the birds, and is starting to run up and down the break wall, and so I get up, rod in hand, and chase him to make sure he isn't to fall in. It's been maybe 5 minutes since I cast our humble offering into the Mobile Bay for the Fish Gods. Momma Wolfe walks out to see what we are doing, and I tell her to look at how ghetto and busted our rig is with an old coke bottle for a cork, as I hand Little Wolfe to her.
"What coke bottle?" she asks.
I look back, the bottle is gone, fully submerged. Do I really have a fish on? I give the reel a couple turns, feel good resistance, and then set the hook. Momma puts Little Wolfe down between my arms and he starts reeling. A few minutes later, and we land our fish, my son's first fish ever. RULES FOLLOWED.
Little Wolfe was ECSTATIC. It's all he can talk about for the last 6 days. "Redfish! Redfish! I caught Redfish!" I am still in shock we caught that fish with an empty coke bottle and a piece of corndog. But the Fish Gods were smiling on us that day, and as my dad always says, "You can't catch any fish if your line aint in the water."
I hope all you dads and fishermen get to have a similar experience for your son's first catch!
