My son is enamored with fishing. Which is interesting because I generally think you need to STOP TALKING while fishing. And he really likes talking.
But apparently, he stopped talking long enough to catch a string of bream and one big bass this weekend in the river behind our home.
He found a "honey hole." Don't know how he learned the fishing lingo, but he appears to have learned it.
He's already planning this weekend's fishing trip with his Cub Scout group.
I hope it's not a tale about the one that got away. I've heard that one before.
I hope it's another honey hole story. Those kinds of stories are what little boys' childhoods are made of, and I want him to remember these events. And there's a bonus - they're free memories (unless you count my husband's task of cleaning the fish. He doesn't think that's free or fun).
I cook 'em, but I don't clean 'em. I'm not THAT country.
Have a happy day.