Before you read this: I CAN NOT get this to make proper paragraphs today for some reason. Sorry. Carry on...
BEHOLD! This is my son. He's the one on the left - you know, the one NOT sporting a mustache. The other guy is a catfish. But it's not just any catfish. And he's not really a guy. He may not even be a he - but that's not the point of this post. Continuing...This is a very special catfish. He's also a very special son (Not to be outdone by the catfish. Just sayin'). So, about the catfish - this is the first catfish, or any fish, for that matter, that Little Britches has ever caught. YAY, LITTLE BRITCHES! WHOO HOO!
Little Britches has never been much of an outdoorsman in the past. Maybe it was 'cause he was little. Maybe it was because he never gave a flyin' monkey's butt about outdoorsy things. Maybe it's because we lived in Florida for the first almost six years of his life and he had to fight the Black Widows over who was going to use his Play Hut the most. It probably didn't help that every time we tried to go fishin' in FL you either kept getting your line hung up in all the bull rush around the lake or you were attacked by such ungodly swarms of mosquitoes that, I swear, they could have made a horror flick out of it. I need to tell you that story some time. I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't been there. So, anyhoo, Little Britches didn't like to fish. He had absolutely no interest in it what-so-ever. Until recently, that is.
All of a sudden he's wanted his 'Poppa' to take him fishin'. So, Poppa took him fishin'. And that fish right up there - that's what he caught. Poppa thinks that Little Britches might like to fish for blue gill (or crappy as they say in the Sunshine State) more than catfish, though. Now, Little Britches don't mind fishin' so much. That makes his Poppa very happy!
Have a great Friday!