Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Crislers v. Bees

Bees.  I am so sick of talking about bees.  Now, I am normally a lover of bees, planting bee-attracting flowers in our beds, trying to increase the number of native plants we have, etc, but last week one of our children came into the house screaming.  Not my-sibling-has-pissed-me-off screaming, but rather I-am-dying-mother-come-tend-to-me-now screaming.  It took a couple minutes, but I got this kid calm enough to explain to me that they had been stung by a bee on the leg.  Sure enough, the affected area began to redden and swell, but said kid was down to sitting on the floor, snuffling and moaning, when suddenly they began to twitch.  Once, twice, then jumping up, saying, "There's... there's something in my pants!  There's- THERE'S A BEE IN MY PANTS!"  

Commence more screaming.

I yanked their pants and underwear down, and sure enough, there was a bee in their underwear, and a second, fresh sting on their backside.  

Long story short, this child stood in the middle of the kitchen for another five minutes screaming and crying and refusing to pull their pants up for fear of another stealthy insect hiding in their clothing, waiting to attack their precious bits and pieces.  This meant the other two kept trying to walk into the room, then making a sharp U-turn saying, "Oooookay," because although we're a relatively close little family unit, we're not "hang out half-naked while trembling and panic-breathing" close.  

Aaaaaanyhoo, after that intense little episode, we've been talking a lot about bees.  See, I thought I was being a good parent by showing this kid the tiny corkscrew-shaped stinger still attached to the (dead) bee, but apparently this only served to further traumatize the kid.  

Note to self:  Do not view My Girl during family movie night any time soon.

The other thing I'm sick of discussing is bees, again, of the spelling variety.  Adelaide once again participated in the Iowa State Fair spelling bee, but this time she got 11th place, an abysmal showing, to borrow her words.  Was she the 11th-best speller there?  No.  She was easily one of the top few spellers, but she was not one of the most focused this year, and you need both excellent spelling ability and intense focus to do well in a spelling bee.  She got out on a word she knew perfectly well, rushing the end and missing a letter.  Devastation ensued.  She is eligible to compete one more year; we'll see what she decides.  Congratulations must be showered upon both Derek and I for not saying some hearty I TOLD YOU SOs, as she performed in the bee the way she practiced, and we more or less saw this coming.  May I just say that this whole part of parenting, the part where you want to guide your children, yet also let them make their own mistakes, even when you see disappointment on the horizon as a result- that part?  It sucks.  I so badly wanted to nag Daughter throughout the summer to better prepare for this event, but did not.  And I still don't regret it.  Mostly.

Atticus provided some fun during the ill-fated bee (this ill-fated bee, I mean, not the previous one); sitting still and not talking is tough for our most social child, but he found a way:  he was sitting clear to the side of the stadium-type seating, and his perch overlooked the table where the contestants who had just been eliminated got to choose a free book as a consolation prize.  Atticus rarely wastes an opportunity to interact with other people, so he designated himself the official Book Table Greeter and whispered things down to them like, "What book are you choosing?" and "You're choosing that book?" and "Don't forget your book!"  He's the kid who actually enjoys those paralyzing moments in church when the pastor announces that he hates all introverts and instructs us to say hello to those around us.  Adelaide greets one person (the minimum we have cruelly inflicted upon her), Atticus shakes all the hands and announces to everyone around that his name is Atticus, and Caedmon is the third child and there is only one of me so I'm not exactly sure what he does.  I think he says hello to the overtly friendly people near him.  Sorry, Caedmon.  Maybe Dad has been paying attention.

Bees:  2,    Crislers:  0.

(Or is it Bees:  3, since our kid was stung twice?  Whatever, the point is WE LOST.)

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