*Disclaimer. I did warn you that these “One time at the cottage stories” were going to be kicking around for awhile!
So yes…as I was saying.
My Dad decided he was going to take his Granddaughters fishing. Sweet right? We loaded up the boat the way we used to when I was a kid. Crammed the cooler full of snacks and pop, towels for when the little ones got bored and needed a quick dip in the lake, oh yes and of course the fishing poles and bait too.
We cruised out into the lake and picked our optimal “fish catching spot”. Poles at the ready, Grandpa pulled out the bait. The plump, juicy and very wiggling worms. As Grandpa expertly speared the first worm on the hook and swung it over the bow, a look that can only be described as vaguely disguised horror swept across SweetGirls face. Little one had not quite put it together that in order to catch a fish, one must sacrifice a worm. We cajoled her through it with a little circle of life talk. Then tried some bacon on my sisters pole to distract her. (yes, I said bacon) It seemed to do the trick.
Less than an hour later. My girls were finished. Done. A total of two nibbles, no fish caught, and they were ready to call it quits. #FishFail. We pulled in the poles….and the worms. Cue the music for the beginning of worm drama. Do you know what worms look like that have been soaking in lake water for an hour and nibbled on by fish? Ugly. Adults just throw those bloated gross little suckers back into the water for the fish who were clearly too smart to get caught. This was an unacceptable course of action for SweetGirl. The result, a funeral, fit for a worm, and devastation for my Father. Such guilt! Had he scarred his youngest Granddaughter for life? A funeral for a worm, surely she would she hate him forever?
This quote from my daughter right after “Wormys” service. “Don’t worry Grandpa, I still love you even though you stabbed that worm thru the heart until he died.”
Guess she decided to let him off the hook!