My son has a terrible fear of bees -- having been the only child to have been stung, ever, and FIVE TIMES in the last summer -- to the point where...if he sees one...no matter how far away...he SCREAMS like a girl...and then pukes his guts up...usually on whatever part ofÂ my body he happens to be clinging to for dearÂ life...at that moment.
This is Little Man.
This is Little Man, on steroids.
Not caring for the little stinging suckers, my ownself -- especiallyÂ yellow jackets --Â and spending a lot of time inÂ our big backyard, filled with flowers and a rather large crop of cherries and Jersey tomatoes, I tried to convince my son that he couldn't possibly spend the entire summer...indoors.
My son begged to differ.
"I got Playstation, a television and plenty of oatmeal...OH...YES...I...CAN!"
No, I don't think he'sÂ wasÂ being weird -- okay, eating oatmeal...IN THE SUMMER...maybe a little -- but, the screaming like a girl thing (and the puking) was getting a bit old and I didn't know what else to do.
So, my husband took matters into his own hands andÂ hung one of these.
I had my doubts --Â we have a lot of beesÂ and this looked a little to...you know...friendly, like I'd want to fill it with caffeine or appletinis and hookup by the pool with a couple of friends...or something -- what's this pretty little bag going to do with all these nasty little bees flying around?
I don't know if you can tell, but that's a bunch of crispy-critters lying on the bottom of the bag and...DAYUM!...but, if the danged thing didn't work!
Sometimes, we all need a little help in facing our fears - today, it was Mini-Me's turn.
"I DON'T WANNA GET A SHOT....PWEEEZE....I PWUH-MUSS TO BE GOOD....PWEEEZE DON'T MAKE ME GET A SHOT!"
Did I mention how much I hate well-visits -- not to mention the fact that I am desperately AFRAID of needles --Â but, our pediatrician is cool and allows the rest of my gang to stay in the examining room...for moral support.
"Now...remember...think of your happy place...mine is the beach!...where's your happy place?"
"My...happy...pwace...is...CHOKE...shopping in duh mall!"
Thing TwoÂ was stroking her arm andÂ Little Man started stroking her foot.
"Yah, just think ofÂ your happy place...like...mine isÂ playingÂ in our backyard...oh...exceptÂ without the bees...because they have thoseÂ SHARP stingers...but, don't worry...they're dead now and can't hurt...anymore...not likeÂ THAT NEEDLE's gonna, anyways!"
And I made the mistake of looking at the needle(s)...again...burped...did I mention I HATE NEEDLES!?!...and spit up in my mouth...a little...which, made Mini-me laugh.
Yep -- it's been one of thoseÂ weeks --Â an appletini is sounding real good, right about now!
[Note:Â No beesÂ suffered inÂ the making of this post - MUCH! - as I'm sure the nasty little buggers died quickly!]Â