Thursday, August 20, 2009


I was driving home from my mom's house after letting her dog out when the Husband called me frantic and breathless. He was telling me, between breaths, that he had just been bitten by a yellow jacket. Knowing that the Husband has a tendency to be a hypochondriac, I assured him that I would be home in just a couple minutes. I found him sitting on the porch holding his right ankle and grimacing....telling me that his leg was on fire. At this point, I'm trying not to laugh at him. Not because I'm heartless, but because I can plainly see that he isn't having an allergic reaction and that the worst thing that is going to happen to him is a day or two of dealing with a tender ankle. I bring him and the Son in the house and get some ice for the offending ankle. Now, it comes to my attention that the Son has also been stung; not once, not twice, but three times. Yet, he isn't really complaining. He has pulled his arm out of the sleeve of his T-shirt and I see that there are 3 red bumps clustered around the back of his left armpit. What a trooper. While the Husband is limping around the house, the Son (3 1/2 years old!!) is playing with his ice pack. He also picked up his I Spy card with a picture of a bumblebee and told me that it was "like the bee that bited him."

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