That time my daughter found Nemo — then ate him

image To say you could catch a fish from the kiddie pool at our local Outdoor Festival several years ago is like saying you could turn a few heads if you backed your SUV into a Harley during the Sturgis Rally.

My oldest daughter had just turned seven, and the pool was literally brimming with farm-raised trout that would’ve just as quickly latched onto a Milkdud as Powerbait. Given a window of 15 minutes of fishing for every dollar, most kids old enough to hold their own poles were standing gawk-eyed with a fish in their sack after less than five minutes. So, when my daughter landed her seven-incher, I asked if she wanted to keep it or throw it back in — hoping against hope that she would opt for the throw-back.

I think my exact words were something along the lines of, “Sweetie, do you want to keep the baby trout until he runs out of air, or put him back in the water with his family?”

“I want to keep him,” she said firmly, then turned to her mother and asked for another dollar.

At this point, as a parent, you come to that critical moment where you must decide between the following:

1) Forgo the obvious teachable-moment opportunity and just settle for another hot dog.
2) Exert your “Dad” authority and forbid the action completely (after asking your wife, of course).
Or 3) Clearly state the consequences to your child and be prepared to follow through with the consequences and valuable life lesson.

Taking a breath, I chose number three and explained to my daughter that whatever fish she caught she would also have to carry, clean and — most importantly — eat.

“OK, Dad.”

And with that, she dipped her pole and reeled in what proved to be a crucial lesson.

* * * * *

“They’re not moving anymore, Dad.”

Driving back home, I looked at my daughter in the rear-view mirror as she peeked into both sacks.

I could build on this.

“That’s right, dear. If you take them out of the water, they can’t live.”

She met my eye, then checked the sacks again. “Oh.”

I remained silent, letting her process this unsettling development on her own as I prepared myself for her response, which would probably involve some tears.

She’s a very sensitive child.

After a few minutes, she looked up and found me in the mirror.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

Her expression was clearly troubled as she leaned forward and asked, “How do you cook ‘em?”

* * * * * *

The guts would get her.

Wrapping an apron around my daughter, I had her stand next to me on a stepstool as I made a long, dramatic incision down the belly of her first fish. As I did, glossy, multicolored things spilled out onto the cutting board and settled into a runny heap. I sliced through the head and tail, and added them to the mix before starting on fish number two.

“Go ahead and scoop that stuff up and put it in this,” I said, and handed her a clear, plastic sack.

She did so without hesitation, except for the heads, which were staring slack-jawed at the both of us.

“What about those?” I asked.

“I don’t want to.”

Ah-HA! I nearly exclaimed, but managed to control myself. Finally, the lesson was about to be learned. A bit smugly, I asked, “You told me you’d help clean these fish.”

She twisted the sack-o-entrails nervously. “I know.”

“Well, then pick these up and throw them away,” I said, brushing the heads toward her with the back of my knife.

“I don’t want to.”

It was time.

The speech was ready, prepared slowly over the last hour in anticipation of this moment; a parent’s sweet victory. “You know, if you’re going to catch fish, you have to take responsibility for… ”

“Can I keep the heads, Dad?”

“… making the choice to — WHAT?”

She looked up at me, smiling. “Can I keep them?” she asked, then slipped them onto her fingers like olives at Thanksgiving. “I don’t want to throw them away.”

* * * * * *

When she helped season and broil the three-ounce fillets, then sat down to eat it, I knew I was beaten. My lesson — so carefully manipulated and contrived — was now being dipped in tarter sauce.

“How’s the fish?” I asked flatly.

“Good.”

I offered a cursory head nod and nibbled at a burger, which I was no longer hungry for. I shoved it aside and swirled my milk glass.

“Dad, where do hamburgers come from?”

“Cows,” I answered, watching as she forked another bite of trout into her mouth.

She then placed her fork on the table and crossed her arms, staring at me with no small amount of displeasure in her eyes.

“What’s with you?” I asked.

She reached over and slid my half-eaten burger back in front of me.

After a long pause, I picked up my burger and began finishing it, realizing that the important lesson I had been trying to teach about respecting and valuing life — especially when it lands on your plate — had actually been learned.

Mostly by me.

Disturbing photo courtesy of my friends at The Grimm Report
Disturbing photo courtesy of my friends at The Grimm Report

(Ned Hickson is a syndicated columnist with News Media Corporation. His first book, Humor at the Speed of Life, is available from Port Hole Publications, Amazon.com or Barnes & Noble.)

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I was a journalist, humor columnist, writer and editor at Siuslaw News for 23 years. The next chapter in my own writer’s journey is helping other writers prepare their manuscript for the road ahead. I'm married to the perfect woman, have four great kids, and a tenuous grip on my sanity...

242 thoughts on “That time my daughter found Nemo — then ate him”

              1. I am flying to Europe in a few weeks. Perhaps I could convince the pilot to alter his flight plan to fly over the States & just drop it out of the plane somewhere in your neighbourhood. Oh you laugh, but I am pretty convincing!

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                2. Consider it done! Unless, of course I get distracted while drinking wine. In that case, I will most likely be entertaining the other passengers with the said singing fish!

  3. You’re always hilarious. But sometimes there’s a whole bunch of genius swimming around in there, too.

    This was fantastically clever in addition to all the laughs.

    Thank you for sharing your gift, Ned.

    Reply

    1. Sometimes… SOMETIMES?!?
      Just kidding, Matt. I truly appreciate that — and thanks for sharing so much of yourself on your truly terrific blog as well.

      Cheers 😉

      Reply

  5. Oh my goodness. I love this. All of it. There may have been a tear shed and my daughter (19) still watches Disney, too.
    I’m still chuckling as I imagine your sweet baby girl with fish heads stuck on her fingers. Thanks for putting (another) smile on my face today.

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    1. So true. I joke about this incident, but it’s those kinds of shifts in perspective only kids can give us that we adults need to remind us about life’s whimsy.

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          1. yes. yes it does. and i will never reveal which one i am. i always love the kids in my kindy class who declare they are ‘beg-etarian’ one day and refuse to eat any meat at lunch. and then gobble down the chicken nuggets. who am i to tell them? plus, who knows what they really are anyway?

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  8. Oh, Oh! I know how she grows up! I have a dear friend, Penny, who is a mother of 6 children and teaches kindergarten for a living. She is a petite, sweet blonde woman who loves children (obviously) and whose world is full of cartoons and bunnies and such. We were having a beer on the front porch during a visit and a rabbit hopped across the front lawn. I expected:”Oh look at the bunny!” and her words were: “Ummm, lunch!”

    Great post Ned! The sushi picture is hilarious! Children never cease to surprise. Honestly, it sounds like your daughter has a solid grip on reality (more so than most adults). That can only be learned from a great Dad (and Mom).

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  9. I love the moment when little kids suddenly realize they’re actually EATING ANIMALS and are usually repulsed. “You mean this is a pig?”, is how my daughter put it, I believe. It only takes a few strips of scrumptious maple cured bacon for them to get over it. Your daughter, apparently, never went through that crucial phase.

    Fish heads
    Fish heads
    Roly-poly fish heads.

    Someone had to do it. Why not me?

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  10. That the cafeteria in the local aquarium offers sushi on its menu has always bothered me…it would be like going to a petting zoo with a deer grazing from one hand while I graze on a venison burger in the other. (Crap! Now I’m hungry.)

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    2. Have I got one for you Randy. Outside Ottawa (where I live) there is a “farm” called Bearbrook Farms. They offer the most eclectic combination of services I’ve ever come across. Two of their specialities are an exotic animal park, petting zoo and a store that sells every kind of obscure meat you can imagine. They sell buffalo, deer, snake, rabbit – and hundreds more. They also have a snack bar and a dining room where you can enjoy these delicacies. I worked for a company that did business with them (they are also into refrigeration and equipment export) and the standing joke among the employees was that you could take your kids to the petting zoo and then have a lunch made of what you had petted (not the same animal, but its brother). They also have cabins and a wedding hall. No end of fun. (You can google them – it’s pretty amazing.)

      Reply

  11. My kids are very funny people. My theory is that you are not quite alive unless you have a twisted sense of humor. Pod people, I think. Nobody teaches kids humor. Just being around laughing people is all it takes. Both of them are vegetarians. The cow we fed watermelon to on our dirt road was hanging by his hoof one day. Not a funny story but it was their decision not mine.

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  13. Slipping the fish heads on her fingers like olives at Thanksgiving…that beautiful mental picture really, REALLy made my day (;

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  14. A friend of mine had a no-nonsense attitude when it came to livestock. Their family named their pigs bacon, pork chop and ham. Talk about foreshadowing …

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  15. Nailed it. This is a best-of, for sure.
    My daughter’s condition means she can’t eat meats but she’s fascinated by it, especially lobster. She loves tearing them apart and distributing the meat.

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    1. Thanks, Ross. One of my favorite memories for sure, too.
      The fact that your daughter is fascinated with — and willing to distribute — something she can’t have says a lot about her character. You’ve got a good one, there 😉

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  19. Far better for you to have eaten your words than a pile of fish heads. The lesson was painless for us, and full of comedic gold. “Like olives at Thanksgiving” was a beaut.

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  21. This was awesome (and it wet my appetite)…I live together with a two year old niece. She already know a lot of words, including ‘chicken’, ‘cow’, ‘pig’, etc…and she’s starting to notice to words are often used when we’re having dinner. She really likes a chicken when it’s a main character in a children’s book, but she eats it all the same…Guess her parents don’t really have to prepare for a life lesson speech as you did:P

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  26. I really liked this Ned.
    Thank you for posting.

    Does your daughter mind being written about?
    Now she is 18 I guess she could have strong views about it.

    Anyway, its a lovely snapshot of childhood.

    J

    Reply

    1. Thanks for the kind words, Jack. As for my daughter, she’s grown up being the daughter of a writer, so she knows it goes with the territory! Truth be told, we still laugh about this 😉

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      1. I am glad you both continue to prove Czesław Milosz wrong.

        “when a writer is born into a family, the family is finished”

        It is good to read the love in your writing, I am glad the story is celebrated between you both.

        I worry a little about Czesław with my own family.
        A little.
        Not enough to stop and, truth be known, not enough to discourage my own children.

        Ta

        J

        Reply

  31. Hah! That’s fantastic. Ah, all the teachable moments I have to look forward to with the Little Prince (he just turned one). I was trying to remember at what age my brother and I were forced to clean the fish we caught… I know it wasn’t immediately once we started fishing because we cleaned our fish at the river, and stored them in our kreels to keep on fishing until it was time to pack up and head back to camp. I think it was a safety thing, the parents didn’t want us that close to the water to do the cleaning until we were a little steadier on our feet. Then again, it could have been a timing thing – only so many minutes of fishing time between dinner and dusk, and minutes spent helping a kiddo clean a fish are wasted fishing minutes.

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    1. Wow, great memories, huh?! My guess is that your parents’ strategy was a little of both. If you were like my kids when you were little, you were always out-fishing your parents. They probably realized that leaving you guys out for as long as possible meant more fish! Why waste time making you clean when you could be bringing home a fish feast?

      Thanks so much for reading and sharing those memories.

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      1. Hahaha
        I don’t know about that… I’ve never been the best fisher in the family. While I can see the pools I want to fish, and I can coax the fly into them, I can’t actually see the fish chasing the fly like the rest of them so I’m at a disadvantage when it comes to setting them on the hook… woh is me and my terrible eyes.

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        1. I’m betting your “young prince” will be able to pick up the slack before too long. If not, there’s always fish sticks 😉

          A belated happy 1st birthday to him, by the way!

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  33. Love this story! My little girl turns one next week – I have so much to look forward to…

    Your tale reminded me of one about my older sister. As a child in rural Essex my mother used to take her for walks to see the cows. One day there were no cows: ‘where have they gone, Mummy?’ Mummy explained the cows had gone to be slaughtered and the meat would be sold at the butcher’s, and you like beef, don’t you? Sister, aged around 4 agreed that she did.

    Later that year my grandfather died, and Granny was momentarily baffled to be greeted by the question: ‘who’s going to eat Pam-Pam?’

    My mother put two and two together very fast and leapt in, no harm done. It remains one of my favourite ‘two-way learning’ stories

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  39. Awesome, Ned! Congrats on the Freshly Pressed honor. I guess it all worked out in the end for your daughter. I love it when things come together like that.

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  41. What a great life lesson for sure. When I got my little hobby farm (9yrs ago) I worried my oldest daughter (she’s 12 now) might not welcome the idea of eating the animals we raised. When I butchered my first rooster, she was so intrigued by everything that came out of it that bird that it became a biology lesson for both of us. She now has a love of science and isn’t squeamish about any facts of life. I admire her childhood, completely opposite of mine. It’s been quite the adventure learning about what makes everything tick and truly appreciating the animals we put on our plates. Some nights she’ll even ask which animal dinner is by name because we raise them all up the best we can, appreciating them while alive and how tasty they are. Now my youngest daughter (now 6) follows our intrigue and curiosity. Kids make it so much more fun to explore life, you can almost see the awesomeness that they see.

    We’re in Oregon to, by the way. Other side of the Valley on the foothills. 🙂

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    1. Hey there, fellow Oregonian!

      Until you have kids, it’s hard to understand how much you learn from them simply by seeing things in a new perspective. It’s like reading a book in your teens, then reading it again in your 30s; the things you overlooked or didn’t connect with the first time suddenly take on new meaning.

      It sounds like you’re doing a great job of teaching your daughters the value of life in all of its aspects. No doubt they are lessons that will continue to have more meaning in every aspect of life in the years ahead 😉

      Cheers from the coast!

      Reply

  43. Absolutely love this! My sister was in ag and FFA as my kids were little. They have a very firm grasp where their food comes from. Cracks me up every time they ask “is this piggy meat?” Because they love piggy meat!

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              1. Alas the handle glasses are a rare breed nowadays and if used are for cask ale bitter only (no widget in glass so no bubbles) 99% of us use handleless pint glasses for our tipples

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              2. Alas the handle glasses are a rare breed nowadays and if used are for cask ale bitter only (no widget in glass so no bubbles) 99% of us use handleless pint glasses for our tipples 🙂

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                2. Aha. Im learning something now. In England if we were to have a nickname for it then my guess would be it being called a starter! Haha. If we were to drink all day and not eat then it would be a liquid lunch lol

  48. My wife and children and grandchild are vegetarians. The killing of an animal is not something they understand when vegetables and fruits are abundant. I still eat the tuna and salmon but have given up on heavy meats. I lost ninety pounds because of this. This story was a good one. Your seven year old is quite a lady of depth.

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  49. “like olives at Thanksgiving” such a vivid image! You are a fantastic and hilarious writer. But I bet you knew that already? You have to give your daughter credit, my daughter gets all wigged out if I so much as put already cooked fish on her plate. Congrats on the FP (again!)

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    1. It sounds like your daughter simply has a highly developed palette, Darla. Or so you can tell yourself. My oldest daughter is the only one of our four kids who will eat fish of any kind, no matter how much we burry it in tarter sauce.

      Wait… maybe it’s the tarter sauce?!

      By the way, being a fan of your writing, I appreciate the kind words 😉

      Reply

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