Gone Fishin'

Last week, Gran and Pop took Abby Grace fishing...but I should probably define fishing. Abby's fishing attention span consists of about 10 minutes, and she doesn't like for the plastic purple fish that came on her Dora pole to be removed; she just wants to catch it over and over again. So upon my suggestion, they did not venture very far for the fishing excursion this year. They just drove across town to a park that just so happens to have a tank that is maybe or maybe not stocked. I just knew we had previously seen sporadic fishermen (or not) fishing (or not) there before.

Sunscreen, check. Naked Baby, check. Fishing hat, check. Let's go!

Race you to the fishin' hole...

Okay, so the story gets better. Apparently, none of the Wal-Marts in Amarillo sell fishing worms, and really, why should they? The nearest lake is 40 miles away. Considering this small glitch and the questionable existence of fish to begin with, they were left to fish with cheddar cheese as bait.
I told you Abby's fishing attention span is short these days. Who am I kidding? Her attention span is short in all areas these days. You will notice that she has on jeans in the beginning pictures (she is apparently trying to kill herself this summer by wearing jeans when it is 95 degrees outside) and shorts in the latter pictures. Within minutes of arriving at the "lake" Abby bogged down and fell in the mud, leaving her jeans near unsalvagable.


All of this being told, guess who actually caught a fish? No, not Abby Grace. Remember, she only wants to catch her pretend fish. Yes, Pop caught a catfish...but there was only time (or maybe only enough fish) for one; Abby got hungry and needed to go across the street to eat lunch at Chick-Fil-A.