Distractions

How else can I explain why I have 9 unfinished, yet saved posts? I can't seem to bring my thoughts to completion. I put them on hold, but never return to finish.

I love being a grandmother to Ethan. It is rewarding, challenging and sometimes the hardest thing I've ever done. How I wish he could open his mouth and plainly tell me what he is thinking. I want to answer the questions I'm sure he asks, but I don't understand. What must life be like to not have others comprehend what you are saying, what you are feeling, the questions you are asking and nobody answers?


Fishing with Ethan was fun. We went to a fish farm, where the cost is not in patience of waiting all day. The price is paid in length, nearly a dollar per inch of fish. After Ethan caught two and his grandpa caught one, we decided we had more than our fair share.
















We carried the bucket of fish to be measured out, gutted and iced for the drive home. I'm not sure we adequately explained to Ethan what was about to happen to his beloved fish.

















While Christina headed off to find a restroom, the young man who took the bucket of fish invited Ethan to watch him work. After declaring we had nearly 45 inches of fish, the young man skillfully went to work. He cut out parts, explaining to Ethan what each one was.

As he was finishing, I noticed Ethan wobble. I recognized the pale gray color, as the blood drained from his face, right before he passed out. Down he went.

Thankfully, we caught him as he fell. I laid him on the wet ground. His fists curled and he began seizing. Thankfully, the only injury he sustained was a cut by his eye.

After getting fluids down him and food in him, he was exhausted and promptly fell asleep. I needed the quiet ride home to recover.


As soon as we arrived home, Ethan pulled out the ziploc bag of headless fish and proudly showed them off. He couldn't figure out why his Aunt Sarabeth shrieked and pushed hin away as he held them up for her to examine. He plunked them bag and all into a bucket, just like after he caught them. I suspect he thought that fish belonged in a bucket after being caught. I somehow convinced him the fish would be happier sleeping in the freezer. But he'll pull them out and show them to you if you ask.