“Daddy,” Maria asks, “Are you a snake?”

Alex takes one hand off his fishing pole and puts a hand to his cheek. He motions as if he were trying to peel his skin off.

“Hm,” he says, “Doesn’t look like it. Or maybe I’m just not ready to shed this layer yet.”

Maria giggles, and I put my pole down and crouch down next to her. “Why would you think Daddy is a snake?”

She scrunches up her eyebrows. “Brendan said lawyers are all snakes.”

I scoff, but Alex laughs.

“Daddy isn’t a regular lawyer,” I say, defensively.

“It’s fine,” Alex says, waving a hand as if he didn’t care. “Let’s just enjoy the day.”

It’s a warm summer day. We’re on the same pier where Alex and I fished together for the first time. It’s crowded now because the weather is so good. There’s just the right amount of breeze to keep us pleasantly cool despite the sun. Alex smiles wide each time the breeze picks up.

Maria is in second grade now. I’m so proud of Alex for overcoming all the odds and passing the bar, then starting his own law firm. I want our daughter to be proud of that too.

“Your Dad,” I say. “He’s a special lawyer. Remember that time I thought you stole the cookies from the cookie jar?”

Maria frowns and crosses her arms. “Daddy took them!”

“I know,” I say, smiling. “But remember when I thought it was you?”

I can tell by her face that she remembers very clearly. She nods. “I got in trouble even though I didn’t do anything bad.”

Alex casts his line. He doesn’t seem to be paying attention to what I’m saying at all, but I know him well enough to know he’s listening to every word. He doesn’t want to talk himself up–he’s always believed in teaching our daughter by actions rather than words–but I know how important it is to him that Maria looks up to him and sees him as a good person.

“Your Daddy defends people like that,” I say. “People who are in trouble for stuff they didn’t do.”

“Like stealing?” Maria asks.

I nod. “Yes, or other bad stuff. Most lawyers will defend anyone who walks in and pays them. Daddy will only defend people who he truly believes are innocent.”

“What’s innocent?” she asks.

“It means they didn’t do anything bad,” Alex says. “Like when you didn’t steal the cookies, you were innocent. I was guilty, since I woke up and ate them in the middle of the night.”

“Can I check the crab traps?” Maria asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go check them together.”

We pull up our first trap, and Maria whines when she sees it’s empty.

“Patience,” I say.

“Patience is boring,” she moans. “Let’s check the other ones.”

We pull up one after another. The next two are empty. And Maria is stomping in frustration until we pull up the final trap, which has three crabs in it.

She jumps up and down, shaking the pier. “See! We didn’t need to be patient!”

I laugh. “That’s not exactly the right lesson to take from this.”

“Daddy!” she shouts. “We got three crabs!”

Alex sets his rod against the pier and comes over with the cooler in hand.

“I can do it,” Maria says.

He shakes his head. “These crabs can pinch your finger right off. Better let me take care of it.”

Maria frowns, but she takes two big steps backward as Alex opens the net. He grabs the grabs with a long pair of tongs and throws them into the cooler.

“You think we have enough?” he asks.

“Ahh!” Maria says. “I don’t want to go yet.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Alex asks.

I smile, happy that Maria actually likes fishing. Maybe it’s because our first real date was fishing on this pier, but after we got married and things settled down, fishing quickly became our preferred way to spend the weekend. We fished while I was pregnant with Maria, and when the weather was good enough, we brought her with us to the pier in her little car seat.

She grew up fishing with us, and she’s always seemed to enjoy it. I’m still afraid that one day she’ll decide she doesn’t want to spend time with us like this–that she’s too cool to go fishing with her parents, but for now at least she’s always excited to go, and always complains when it’s time to go. She likes the fishing part a lot more than the cooking and eating part.

“Maybe one more fish,” Alex says, and Maria smiles.

We wait for twenty or thirty minutes, and there’s a bite on one of the lines.

“You want to take this one?” Ales asks Maria.

She nods.

Only in the past two or three trips have we been letting Maria try to reel the fish in. She’s lost it each time, which has made her extremely upset, but Alex has been infinitely patient and supportive of her. He’ll always say something like, “That one wasn’t meant to be eaten I guess,” or “Great try, sweetie, not even Mommy or I could have reeled that one in.”

He’s never shown any hint of annoyance or impatience with her, and it keeps her wanting to try even after failing so many times.

Maria grabs the rod and starts to reel.

I try to bend down and coach her, but she gives me an annoyed look. “I know Mommy, I know. Let me concentrate.”

I watch her work the line. She pulls and tugs and reels. She looks so much more comfortable and confident than she did last weekend. All of the practice and training from us is looking like it’s suddenly clicked. She suddenly knows what to do. It’s natural for her.

I smile up at Alex as we both look down at our daughter. She has a look of intense concentration on her face, and she’s got the fish nearly to the pier.

She flicks it up, and the fish splashes out of the water, flapping its tail back and forth as it glistens in the sun.

She came this far once before, and she got so excited she dropped the fish. This time she doesn’t celebrate. She grips the rod harder and reels slowly and steadily.

The fish comes up and up, and only after she hoists it over the pier and lets it drop onto the ground by our feet does she finally celebrate.

“I caught it!” she squeals. “I got it all by myself!”

Alex crouches down by the fish, getting the hook out. Neither of us want her messing with the hook just yet.

“Can I hold it?” she asks.

“It’s slimy,” I say.

“I want to hold it,” she insists.

Alex gets the cooler in position. “Hold it over here in case it wriggles out of your hand. You wouldn’t want to lose it after catching it.”

He looks up at me and winks. I don’t know if he’s referring all the way back to the rabbits I made him release so long ago, or to the times I’ve clumsily lost fish after getting the hooks out.

Maria picks the fish up with both hands, pressing the fins back like we taught her.

“Eww,” she says.

“I told you it’s slimy,” I say.

She smiles then, and she places the fish carefully into the cooler–a separate one from the crab cooler.

“We got a real feast now,” Alex says. “You looking forward to eating this fish you caught?” Alex asks.

She nods and smiles.

“Maybe you can start learning to cook them too,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Daddy cooks them. I catch and eat them.”