“Dad!” Brenna calls. “Dad! Come see what I found.”
I hustle over as she describes a silvery worm she saw in the mud under a few inches of water. When I get near I notice a fish head in the grass at the shore.
“I think it might have been fish guts,” I suggest. “Probably from someone fishing here.”
She pauses to think and seems to realize that’s probably true. “It was still cool,” she asserts.
“Yeah, I bet it was,” I say sincerely.