Danger lurks in unlikely places, at inopportune times, in unwelcome sources. This afternoon, while I was rinsing the dishes my Mom had washed, we both noticed a bee floundering in the suds at the bottom of the sink where she'd stacked the dishes.
"That bee picked a bad place to hang out," Mom said. In a bout of foolish compassion, I just flicked the struggling insect out of the sink with a spoon and went on my merry way, humming "What Child is This" festively, albeit mindlessly, and forgetting all about the wet bee.
After finishing the rinsing, I left the kitchen to start something else. Not fifteen minutes later I heard shrieks coming from the kitchen. I thought Mom had burned herself, but it wasn't just one yell; she kept up the repeated cries of distress that finally merged into one long wail of misery. When we poked our heads around the corner to see what the commotion was all about, we saw Mom jumping aroudn in the kitchen accompanied by her own chorus of indian war whoops. On reaching the kitchen, we found her sitting on the floor- crying- slathering both feet in globs of baking soda paste that oozed onto the floor in snowy puddles.
"That bee!" she wailed. "That bee had the nerve to sting me twice. Bees aren't supposed to sting people in December!!!"
The stripey culprit was waddling around on the floor, so I grabbed Ethan's plastic sword and brandished it, dealing the bee several mortal blows. When its guts were satisfactorily smooshed out, I cleaned it up with a paper towel and we (Mattie, Ethan, and I) stood around looking at our mother awkwardly. We aren't used to seeing her cry like that. (She saves her tears for worthier causes, generally.) She was just mad, mostly. And the stings were extremely painful. After a while, the tears turned to laughter, and she sat there laughing about it. Then, not knowing what else to do, Ethan and Mattie got a Christmas pillow off the couch and she layed back right there in the middle of the kitchen floor, apron on, feet caked in baking soda. Mattie and Ethan promtly fetched pillows for themselves and layed down on either side of her. Yes, it was funny looking. And yes, I did join them after a few minutes, only, the wood floor didn't prove to be very comfortable.
We're all just glad that the injury occurred after the pies were finished :) Mom's feeling somewhat better now, although it hurts to walk, since the bee stung her on the bottoms of her feet. Ouch. You never know what a day holds, huh? That incident may be the last of my Mindless Compassion for Dangerous Insects.
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1 comment:
As one who has also been stung on the feet by bees, I heartily sympathize!
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