We received a visit from our own personal fishmonger this evening, quite unexpectedly.
That's right. Mr. Jason appears with a large dead fish once again. And once again, he confirms his status in Cubby's eyes as a total rock star.
Honestly, what's not to love about Mr. Jason? If you're an almost-three-year-old, particularly. When the man shows up, maple syrup is made, knives and fishing poles appear, fish are caught and gutted, a boat AND a truck are on the scene.
Exciting things just happen when Mr. Jason shows up. Tonight he called around 6 p.m., just after A. left for night court, to ask if we might want one of the three pike he caught today. Of course I said yes. So he brought us the (HUUUGE) fish, along with a field guide to New York State fishes for Cubby and some old copies of Fur-Fish-Game he found at a used bookstore and brought for A.
In return, I gave him some lamb and helped him find the blown fuse on his truck that was making it impossible for him to see his speedometer in the dark.
While I was helping him with the fuse, Cubby came outside with us and spent some time stick-hunting in the dark. In his socks. In the rain.
See what I mean about the excitement Mr. Jason brings with him?
So now we have a gigantic dead fish on the patio, another fish reference book that I can spend hours looking through with Cubby, and some old magazines about trapping. Just another visit from Mr. Jason.
* The MiL remarked that Mr. Jason is like the Santa Claus of fish. But since Cubby knows Santa Claus isn't real (he pretty much decided this on his own, by the way, rendering my hand-wringing on the subject unnecessary) and Mr. Jason most definitely is, Mr. Jason wins by a landslide.