Here Come the Bees…

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After all the friends had left Robbie’s birthday party, we came inside, so he could show Nona and Pops his presents.  Robbie had been shooting Captain Hook’s cannons when he turned to walk to me.  All of a sudden, he screamed.  I assumed he had stubbed his toe on the ottoman.  Then the screaming took on a new pitch, and I knew something was really wrong.  Nona swooped in, just as I started to hear the buzzing and could finally understand what Robbie was trying to tell me.  He had stepped on a bee.

I grabbed him into my lap, trying to console him.  The stinger was stuck deep into his big toe, and Robbie was thrashing to the point of not being able to get it out.  Fortunately, Nona sprang to the rescue, running to get tweezers from her purse and making a baking soda paste.  While she did this, Robbie lamented, “Oh, my God!  Oh.  My.  God.  This hurts so bad!  This is terrible!  I hate bees!  Oh, my GOD!”  I may sound like a terrible mother, but, well, I had to laugh.  I’ve never heard anyone that dramatic in my life.

Eventually, the stinger came out, the paste was applied, and the Band-Aid was affixed.  Robbie had calmed down enough to start playing with some of his toys again and talk to his uncle Hunter on the phone for a few minutes.  As he was doing this, I looked down and saw it.  Another bee.  Crawling along the hem of his shorts.  There was no really good way to handle this, nothing I could do without alerting Robbie to the impending disaster.  All I could do was hope that neither one of us would wind up stung.

“Robbie, honey, please stay still,” I said quietly, hoping he would stay focused on his planes and phone conversation.  He didn’t.  Before I had even finished speaking, Robbie started screaming at the top of his lungs.  It was perhaps the most panicked scream I have ever heard from my child.  His body started thrashing, and I was trying to keep his shorts from moving, praying that the bee didn’t decide to sting him.  Once again, after what felt like an eternity, Nona swooped in with a tissue (how in the world she had tissues on hand to wipe away not one but two bees I’ll never know) and removed the threat.

Unfortunately, Hunter and his girlfriend, Laila, had no idea what was happening.  All they could hear was some sort of commotion and a blood-curdling scream coming from Robbie.  Poor Laila kept asking if Robbie was OK and no one could respond.  Robbie was too upset and I was laughing too hard.  Fortunately, that was the last bee we saw for the night.  Robbie is set to get four shots later this week.  I figure this is a good starting point.  None of the shots will hurt as much as the bee sting.  Right?

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