They might not have loved the 5 a.m. wake-up call but the boys had a great time crabbing the back bays last Saturday.
I took Beckett, who was then 4, crabbing for the first time five years ago with our friend “Mr. Brad.” Although I clearly remember the experience and the 10 keepers we caught that morning, I had to look back this week to refresh myself on where I was on this parenting journey and how my little boy behaved and carried himself. At the age of 2 then, Pam stayed behind with Carson while we were up early crabbing.
That morning five years ago started with Beckett standing inches from my face at 4:50 a.m. ready for his first crabbing adventure. Much of the conversation during that trip revolved around how could it be possible that “Mr. Sun” and “Mr. Moon” were both out at the same time, what would happen if he dropped the crabbing net overboard (answer me diving for it at least six times), why chicken necks are red when frozen when clearly chickens are white, what were Mr. Brad’s daughters doing, how bad will it hurt if the flies bite me and why can’t he see through the water like he can at the pool. He has always had the gift of gab.
Fast forwarding five years to last Saturday morning, it was quite a different start. All four of us went this time, and it took quite a bit of coercion to get the boys up and moving at 5 in the morning. Stealing their covers did the trick as it often does when we need to get them rolling in the morning.
The goal for Carson’s first crabbing experience was the same as it was when I took Beckett — for him to not go overboard. Fortunately, there were no close calls on that front, although Pam — being the cautious mom — may have viewed a couple specific instances differently.
While we were riding out on the boat through the marshlands, the sun was rising on a perfect morning with a nice breeze and the vista was beautiful. It was wonderful to hear Beckett remark about just that.
Mr. Brad clearly had a plan for us and within minutes we were dropping crabbing lines. More specifically, in Carson’s case, he was throwing the lines with bait out as far as possible and with little care or concern about their flight plan. Soon enough we realized it was wise to keep an eye on our southpaw who doesn’t himself know where objects are going when he throws.
We went to several sites that Mr. Brad had success at previously and were able to catch nine keeper-sized crabs with lines. Fortunately, he had a few pots placed strategically that brought us good luck. All told we caught 29 keepers on this memorable day for our family.
It’s mornings like this that truly confirm what a wonderful place this area is to raise a family. Since they are just 9 and 7 years old, my children don’t fully understand that yet. I get that. For my part, I didn’t truly grasp how special this area was until I went to college in Baltimore. They don’t have the perspective yet to know catching crabs from a boat while the sun is rising and smelling the salt air with the sea gulls singing overhead is amazing. They just know they had a lot of fun and want to do it again.
Along with reveling in the best nature has to provide, the best part of any crabbing adventure to me is being able to cook and eat them within minutes of catching them. Since Mr. Brad and Mrs. Kelly are wonderful hosts, they did just that and even catered to our kids’ wishes for breakfast.
For some silly reason, picking crabs with the appropriate refreshments for doing so was not their idea of fun at 7:30 in the morning. The four adults thought otherwise. I’m sure this is one of those things the kids will come around to in the years ahead.
There’s a line in this week’s “Guarding Ocean City” column by the Ocean City Beach Patrol that maintains most kids are lost on the beach under the dad’s watch.
I’m proud to say that has never happened to me on the beach. However, I must admit I have lost Carson a number of times at our house.
Even at home and knowing he has not left the house, it’s incredibly unsettling. The most recent instance came Monday morning when I turned around from unloading the dishwasher to see Beckett at the table but Carson gone. I asked Beckett where he went and he was shocked to learn he was no longer sitting next to him.
I looked in all the usual places — playroom, bedroom and bathroom. There was no sign of him.
Although I knew he hadn’t left the house, I looked around in the backyard. I eventually found him after backtracking several times in the bathroom with Pam, who was taking a shower. I should have looked there immediately but I figured he would not barge in on her during a shower. Surely, at 7 years old, he would not do that. That’s a toddler thing to do. Clearly, I was mistaken.
When I found him, he was and spraying deodorant in the air while his mom showered a few feet away.
