My journey through Motherhood continually reveals new perceptions of my children and life in general. If children prove anything to you its that things are not always as they seem, you can not put anything in a box, and there is always more than one way to skin a cat....fish.
My dear son Presley has spent quite a bit of time obsessing about going fishing. If you know Presley, you know that this is an understatement. If you know Presley, you know that obsessing means that "Mommy" is about to lose her mind because he spends QUITE A LOT of time obsessing about random things. So, when we came back from being out of town to find that Grandpa Dean had been fishing with out Presley.....he was not happy.
"It really makes me mad when Grandpa Dean goes fishing with out me!" Mind you, this was the first, and only time Grandpa Dean went without Pres., but it didn't matter, he was stressing about it now.
"Well, my Love, go ask him to take you."
His back straightens, he marches to to door, opens it. "Grandpa Dean?" Slightly swinging on the door "Will you take me fishing?"
"Yeah, we'll go tomorrow!" I hear from inside.
Presley snaps around. Huge grin. Tongue withdrew wiggling back and forth in the gap left behind by his two missing top teeth. This is trademark Presley. This shy sign of his delight.
This was to be a "Mans" fishing trip. One of those male bonding experiences. Soon after they left I received a picture of the first catch, I knew it was going well. A few hours later the truck pulls in. Pres jumps out, wearing a cowboy hat and a huge grin. He races to the back and holds up his catch, 8 huge Catfish.
I see my Dad getting his set up together. Hook in tree, fancy pliers to peel off skin, fillet knife, butcher knife.....and Penelope standing there, eyes wide with intrigue. "Amy, do you want her to see this? You want to call her over?"
"No" I reply, "I want her to watch, I want her to do it" I know, strange response from a Mom, about her five year old daughter, you would think, unless you know Penelope.
My Dad starts to work. Two minutes in Presley comes to me. "Oh Mom! The guts! Guts are just ugh!!!" A look of paleness comes over his face. "Presley, Jesus was a fisherman, don't you think he had to do this?" I ask, hoping to persuade gall. "What if you are going down the river one day and you need to eat a fish to survive? Will you let the fish live and you starve or will you eat the fish?" I try once more.
"They are just so beautiful."
And then, "I'm just gonna make a sandwich" and he does. My beautiful, sensitive, loving boy.
Penelope on the other hand, I find her eagerly taking the freshly filleted fish from my Dad and placing them in the bucket of water.
She is tenacious. Strong willed, determined, always eager to learn. Her curiosity leads her to the next step. She picks up the knife and aims for the head of the fish. She is in no way malicious. She sees the experience in a very "matter of fact" very scientific way. Yet this is the same girl who cried when her pet spider was killed, the same girl who has compassion for all creatures.
She is proud of herself. She takes Pixie, who has been silent observer up until this point, over to show her"her kill" as she put it.
