One day, our 8 and 11-year-old Omaha grandboys saw a couple of kids fishing at a neighborhood lake. Great idea! New idea! And thanks to Amazon, a couple of brand spanking new rods and reels made their way to their excited hands, and a new hobby was ready to be perfected. So much promise; such big smiles! But then such big piles of smelly green algae clogging up the lines and causing a frustrated boy to repeatedly yank hook, line and sinker out of the water and nearly into his mother’s face. And the ignominious walk home with angry Mom, while his little brother stayed behind with Dad to continue fishing.
Just a trial run; surely the next beautifully bright Omaha morning would hold more promise. But it held nothing biting, fishing was boring, and somehow the two brothers’ two lines became terribly tangled and the weeks of frustration, worry, confusion and fear finally worked their way to the surface. It was a longer time coming that I would have predicted; those boys are troupers. But there was sudden anger and there were tears, and there were loud protestations of, “But Mom, sometimes things just get really tangled up!” as they trudged their way home.
Deep breaths, everyone, enjoy a cherry popsicle or two as the grandboys did. We’re all going to get through this. Sometimes things just get really tangled.
