Dad Entry #127

Megan read to me tonight. "Go, Dog. Go!'" was the book. Megan said, "It's pretty long, Dad, but I can read it to you fast if you want." I said, "No, Sweetheart, don't read fast. Don't hurry. Please don't hurry. You don't have to grow up, I mean read fast."

We went fishing in Minnesota. Papa Mike, Michael, and I drove to our friend Paul's near Deluth. Paul lives on a big lake, complete with two docks, boats, a four-wheeler, two boxers (dogs, not pugilists, although that would've been cool too), a bonfire, remarkably bright stars, bunk beds, a slingshot, waders, and a garage full of fishing gear. And lots of beverages. Michael had a blast. So did the rest of us.

While we were at Paul's, Grandma and Meg dined at the American Girl Doll store. I have yet to visit one of these fabulous shops, thanks to Megan's grandmas, aunts, and Mommy who always take her without me. Michael and I enjoyed fishing so much we threw our lines in Prior Lake, also. Megan joined us and it was biblical, we landed so many largemouth bass. Megan used her new pink fishing gear. Michael was happy with a lightweight setup of mine, which I officially gave him along with all my tackle. Megan was quite the animated, cheerful fisher-woman. Michael was more focused and moody; dour one minute, elated the next, depending on his cast length and accuracy, the presence of any line tangles, and time elapsed between catches. I mostly helped Megan, who occasionally missed her cues; "Hey Sugar-Bean, I think you've got one," I'd say, as I saw flashes of her pink and purple bobber under the surface moving sharply one way or the other.

Michael noticed a condom dispenser on the wall of a truck stop bathroom during our trip. I watched as he studied it, bracing myself. I didn't interject awkwardly with an attempt to distract or draw him away. I assumed he was reading the descriptions of his four choices, each with its own receptacle for payment via quarters above an opening where the handy item, once purchased, can be retrieved. Thankfully, he didn't ask me what it was, not to mention inquire about brightly colored product slogans like 'extra safe' and 'maximum pleasure'. I would've only piqued his interest further with clumsily fibbed and fumbled answers. We'll have this discussion soon enough, I'm afraid. Megan's not the only one - alluded to above - growing up too fast.

Megan, despite her petiteness - and her immaculate cuteness, of course - can let loose terrific farts. I mean real doozies, the kind any man's man would proudly call his own. It's all fun and games now; I just hope she never does it at the prom, or on a date sometime. Wait a minute, I take that back....