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The fishing part is not important. The being together is the important part. Just as important, is his little friends who do not have a good father figure in their lives. You have a chance to make a real difference in some kids life. Don't screw it up.

^ Well that is real positive. Fishing should be fun when first starting out at a very young age. Ryan's suggestion of simple bluegills or sunny's is a great idea. Little fish, usually bite on most anything, and easy and fun to catch for a little guy. Don't remember being quite that young and never had children. But would imagine a few hours without a catch or action would be a bit of a boring stretch for a youngster. Time spent with a small child is important. Fun time spent is more valuable and ingrained. Back to the thread about hunting. Long story, will try and be short. 2 Thanksgiving's ago, we spent some time with my (inlaw) nephew and family in central NY state. Arrived on Wednesday afternoon, and as soon as out of the truck, my nephew declares, "We're going deer hunting early tomorrow morning". Well OK, I'm up for something new and unusual. Problem is, I've never hunted and the last time I shot a gun was around the age of 12 with a 22 long at YMCA camp. He takes me out on his property, hands me a 30 ought(?) 6 rifle, and gives me 5 rounds to hit a target at ~ 80 yards. I did manage to hit it around the edges with 2 rounds, and thought my right shoulder was permanently damaged. Next morning, at friggin' 5:00 AM, we up and at it. Private property of a friend of his. Sit in a tree stand and gaze over the woods. See a few white tails running out of range, and after 4 hours go back to the house. Beer time. Next morning, drags me out of bed before the sunrise. "Let's go again!" Cracks a big smile, hands me a beer. People do not act like this in suburbia. Same place, different tree stand. Quiet. lovely morning, warm when the sun comes up. Peaceful, almost meditative., but I'm watchful. I swear that this deer appeared right in front of me, like it was "transported" from space. Maybe 70 or 80 yards away. Never saw it browsing through the field right in front of me. Took a shot. Went down to the ground, struggled up, and ran like a bat out of hell. We tracked the blood for about 300 yards and it was down. Never heard the report of the rifle, or felt the recoil. Maybe an instinctive genetic memory when man really had to hunt for food or starve.