I was once again given the nod to spend some time chasing crappies on Sunday. I waited until after lunch when I figured the temperature might peak at a balmy 4 degrees. Blue bird skies made it feel warmer than it actually was and I started to get excited with the anticipation of a quiet afternoon pulling in slabs. The two little ones immediately took notice as I began to grab gear. (Note to self - perhaps gear may be better stowed in garage?) Michele prodded me by asking if I "was bringing Emma with this time?" The same Emma that had been begging to go skating or play outside throughout our recurring cold snap. You see, Michele is smart. She's figured out that I have a weakness for taking my kids fishing. Like I'd have this internal dead beat dad feeling of guilt if I would ever leave them at home. And so, as soon as Minnow said the words, it was locked in that I now had a partner in my afternoon adventure.
I once again changed my focus from Crappie Slayer to Nurturing Father as I now packed treats and juice boxes. Emma's smile and laughter is contagious - as is her whining. Our trip started with excitement and optimism by both of us but it didn't take long for Emma to ask to go home. I had gone through so much effort trying to make Sissy Squarepants comfortable in our small ice house. I admit that bonking her in the head while we erected the fort was a serious mistake on my part. However, the Tootsie Pop to ease the pain was only good for about 90 seconds of pleasure. Emma began her onslaught of requests shortly thereafter, most of which involved being done fishing. It's a weird emotion spending the time to set up camp and get lines set - all the while trying to please a 4 year old, only to have that effort go unnoticed. And where we fish it makes it even more unique that we are only minutes from home. Just far enough to where I am not yet comfortable abandoning my gear to run my partner home. Yet close enough that I feel like phoning her mother to come and pick her up on shore.
She was sent out of the house to play hockey. (I brought sticks in anticipation of boredom - but that trick works better with Tyler.) She was allowed to go on a short "walk about". (not much doing on a bitter cold Sunday.) Emma even sat in the car for a bit which I now see as only a teaser to a little girl longing to go home.
I stared down the motionless ice hole and pondered my next move when all of the sudden Miss Emma unzipped the door to the fish house, stepped in, sat in her Scoobie Do chair and looked at me and said.......... "Dad, I have to go Poop."
That was it for me. Time to throw in the towel. Call it a day. (a 45 minute day)
I sent her back to the car and told her it would take me a while to undo all that had been done. She watched from the window as I reeled up 2 of the 3 lines (I always like to leave one down as I pack up camp), disassembled the fish house, turned off and cooled the heater, put the auger and shovels back in the TrailBlazer and policed the area. And wouldn't you know it? - the bobber of the only wet line went below the surface. With camp broken down I reeled in our only keeper crappie of the day. I lipped the little fella and walked over to show my on again/off again partner and like a champ she asked, "Did you catch that one or did I catch it, Dad?" Miss Emma had the audacity to ask if the only crappie of the shortened day was "taken" on her rod. :)
I dropped the fish back into the hole and we headed for home. Maybe grumbling a bit on the outside but I assure you I was smiling on the inside. Made me even prouder that I had gone through the effort when later that night when Tyler called, the first thing Emma told him was that her and dad had gone fishing. Yep - we went alright!
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