Fishing in a pool

My husband is an excellent fisherman. He’s been fishing since he was knee- high to a grasshopper, and he’s very very good at it. Spending the majority of his teenage years as a local on North Stradbroke Island didn’t hurt either; there’s not much else to do over there than surf and fish. So, that being said, he is an excellent fisherman.
Enter Miss 7 into the story. She got her first fishing rod for Christmas when she was 2. Yes, 2. Years old. Okay… Six months later, she had caught her first fish. She also caught the ‘fishing bug’. She will, also, be an excellent fisher woman, I think.
Enter Miss 4. Yes, you probably guessed it; she also received a fishing rod for Christmas when she was 2. And again, had caught her first fish by 2 and a half. So the tradition was set.
Then Mr 3 was born, and Hubby got a new job. One that left me, virtually, a single mum. That was how little we saw him. Which was sad. And so Mr 3 got his fishing rod only a few months ago, for his third birthday. He’s been out with Hubby once, and he screamed so much when the boat was moving that he apparently put himself to sleep. Coping mechanism, apparently. I was horrified when I heard what had happened on their return. To think that he was *that* distressed, that to cope he had to put himself to sleep?!! Crazy! Insane!
Needless to say, they haven’t been out together again since. Sad, really. So Mr 3 is yet to catch his first fish. 🙁
On the upside though, he loves the idea of fishing, so he’ll probably get there eventually. He loves watching the fish swimming around in mine and Miss 7’s fish tanks, catching computer fish on the PS2, and if allowed to, will spend hours and hours playing with the water, the rocks, and the poor terrorized fish in the fishpond out the front of our main bedroom.
So yesterday, when I took an hour or so out of ‘work’ and visited my next-door neighbour, we sat and chatted while Miss 4 and Mr 3 played near her pool. Mr 3, with fishing rod in hand.
Very cute, in my opinion!