My husband is a HUGE Fisherman.

He has fished since he was a boy and now that Eben is finally getting dexterous enough to be trusted with a 3 ft pole with a sharp hook attached to the end, he is proudly passing on this pastime to our boy.

He explains with patience and love to a boy so eager to be like his Daddy.

A brave boy that can even put a worm on by himself, not at all squeamish at the squish.

For the results far outweigh the task that got you there….

The climactic catch is only dwarfed by the bond that is forming between the two of them.  And all I can do is look on in awe, so thrilled that they are able to share these moments together.

The more that he tries, the better he gets.

Psyched with even the smallest of rockbass, because….

“Hey, it’s still a fish!”

Today the boys and I went fishing up the Mountain from where I grew up, to the Toll Booth Pond, for a few hours of trying our luck

with some new “AWESOME” fishing poles.

Sam was in Heaven, because his Daddy met us there.

And I was equally as happy to have him there,

so that HE could do this for the boys.

I just watched my boy have a blast.

Knowing that even though they didn’t catch a single thing, they still are learning with every cast.