There's four of them. Two here and the same number in South Dakota. Yesterday, we had Matthew and Luke for a few hours. Not as easy as it once was and what once was, wasn't all that easy. Tough as it can be there's always a few treasures gathered each time they're over.
Last night's moments came from Luke. Only seven months old and barely able to cast a Rapala more than a dozen yards. Since he can't crawl, much less walk or carry a canoe pack or change his own diapers, I don't see much use for the kid as a fishing partner for at least a dozen years. That he also likes to be carried constantly by his Grandpa and cries when he's set down also bodes badly for any serious portaging. Guess I'll have to wait a while.
On the upside, he likes to be carried by his Grandpa. And sleep on the old man's belly and chest. Looking at his sleeping head on my shoulder gives me a warm feeling from being able to see that I still have more hair than he does, maybe not in numbers but in total volume. I'll enjoy that while I can.
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