Over the holidays, Dimples went to the park with his brother, Grandpa, and Uncle B.
This particular park has a lake where, on nice days, many folks fish.
There is also a wooden bridge that goes across the lake.
My dad, Grandpa, told me the following story:
As my boys were crossing the bridge, running ahead of Grandpa and Uncle B, they happened upon a fisherman who had been walking across the bridge when he apparently dropped his line with the hook on the end. The hook had fallen through the cracks of the bridge, and when he pulled the line, the hook must have stuck in the underside of the wood.
So my boys, running ahead, found this somewhat elderly gentleman down on one knee trying to unhook the bridge.
Dad saw the fisherman laugh as the boys continued on their way. When Dad and Uncle B made it to the gentleman, still down on one knee but now chuckling as he tried to work his hook out of the underside of the bridge, the gentleman proceed to tell my dad that he had commented to my boys that he had “caught the bridge.”
And without missing a beat, my five year old happily replied, “Well, I guess it’s yours then.”
{I sure wish I could remember to write down all the funny, clever things he says!}
