I ran to the campsite, screaming. Dad followed close behind. My family gasped when they saw my pre-dicament, and suggestions flew.

"Just pull it out."

"Cut it out."

"Is there any peroxide?"

I continued to scream. Dad had hooked me.

We had been fishing together a few minutes earlier. I had played on a log while Dad fished. The fish only nibbled. Dad rebaited his hook quite a few times. I enjoyed just being with my dad.

"Rikki, I need you to duck. I'm going to cast now," Dad said. I ducked, and he flung the fishing line into what seemed like the middle of the lake.

A few minutes later, Dad reeled in his line. The fish had nibbled away the bait again. He threaded on two more fish eggs and told me to duck.

Having seen the last cast go over my head with plenty of room to spare, I ignored Dad's command.

"Rikki, please duck," Dad said. I ignored him and Dad cast.

A sudden, stabbing pain surprised me. I looked at Dad. He saw me and turned white.

I followed the fishing line with my eyes from the tip of his fishing pole to the ground, to my log, then up my leg. I lost sight of the line when it rose up off my shoulder. I started screaming when I realized the fishhook and eggs were stuck inside my lower lip.

Dad and I ran back to our campsite. Mom and Dad took me in their arms as my granddad pulled the fishhook out of my lip.

Never again did I disobey my dad as blatantly as I did that day when I was 8 years old. Whenever I consider disobeying, I feel the scar I still have on the inside of my lip and think twice.