Some things take time.
Say, for example, my kids love of fishing.
Some kids take to it like say... a fish to water. (Sorry. I couldn't help myself.) But my kids? Not so much.
You would expect that growing up in a hunting and fishing family (as I did) they would crave these activities (as I did). But they didn't.
Maybe it has to do with having a father who is so incredibly passionate about fishing. Like perhaps if they didn't love it as much as he did then they must not like it at all.
Or maybe it's because Pete usually takes them fishing at sites that require a bit more fishing finesse than the average five-year-old possesses.
Or maybe it's something else.
But until this summer my kids just weren't into it.
But then Pete caught a fish on Sage's rod in the river at dusk. Up past bedtime, the kids were playing in the river and already in their bliss.
So he called Sage over and let him reel it in. Then he did the same with Lupine when he caught another fish.
And they were hooked. (Ahem. So to speak.)
When Sage proclaimed for the first time in his almost ten years, "I LOVE fishing!" we took the bait (I'm sorry. Really. I just can't stop myself.) and headed to the lake with my dad's old fishing boat.
And Sage was suddenly as obsessed as Pete. (Lupine wasn't so sure about the leaky old boat, thus her expression above.)
They both caught fish and they both caught fishing fever.
Watching my children that night as they joyfully ate the fish that they caught felt right for our family in so many ways. Like watching them harvest and enjoy their own kohlrabi and tomatoes from the garden. They have a deep understanding of where there food comes from. They understand it and are at peace with it.
They know that meat on their plate means an animal died to feed them. And I think that's important. Gratitude comes with this understanding.
As for me, I bought my first fishing licence in more than a decade. (A decade of vegetarianism ended with me buying a fishing licence in my late 20's and catching bluegills for our dinner. There were tears that day as I wrestled with my choice to eat meat, but that is a story for another time.)
I hadn't brought along my (now dusty) fly rod, last used when I was very pregnant with Sage, so I joined the kids fishing with worms.
In truth I spent most of my time apologizing to those worms and finally putting down my rod and just taking pictures.
I guess the long-ago vegetarian in me is still somehow hanging on.
But the kids? They are hooked.
