In Feb. 26 Issue
Somewhere between the recent, "snow events" (that sounds like a fancy, media term, right there), arctic cold, and torrential downpours, we had, I think, one, nice, warm pleasant day.
And on that fateful day, I learned about the "birds and bees."
(Yeah, I'm gonna have to explain that one.)
Like I said, it was a really nice day.
Nice enough that we were going to load up the younger kids and go to the park, or something like that.
Which was going fine until...
Drake jumped into the car, and buckled his seatbelt, Izzy was tossed in the back seat, and buckled, but as Kate made her princess-like entrance into the royal carriage...
Her scream was ear-piercing, paint-melting, gear-grinding agony.
She had both her hands held out in front of her like she was pushing away some unseen, demonic force.
Anyone and everyone in the general area rushed toward her as tears literally burst from her eyes.
"What is it, Kate?!" I shouted.
Wifey was trying to console her, but Kate drew away-shaking
"What happened?" I asked, but no one knew.
Being the compassionate siblings they are, Drake covered his ears, and Izzy dug at her nose.
"Buh...buh...buh..." Kate sputtered over and over
"BUH, BUH, BUH!" she repeated.
"BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" she shrieked.
I took a couple of steps away from the car, then looked around as if the suspect insect was about to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Hey, you lookin' for me, buddy?"
Kate finally calmed down enough to prove that indeed, she had been attacked by something.
Because there, on her finger was a red, swollen "bump" with a dark "dot" in the center.
Wifey grabbed Kate's hand and with a swift, Ninja-like motion, removed the offending matter.
"What the heck did you do?!" I asked her.
"Mommy stuff," she replied. "I pulled a stinger out of her hand."
"Uh...OK," I said, somewhat perplexed. (Wait, I'm always perplexed...)
We had to make a makeshift compress out of a wet, paper towel and some tape, but that seemed to appease Kate....somewhat.
She would alternate between eerie silence and bursts of haunted howls.
We gave her aspirin, tried a cold rag, then a hot rag on her "wound," I read books, tried to find something for her to watch, something for her to eat.
She was restless, scared, hyper, quiet, loud, kinda like a Pixies song.
The panic set in when she thought there was bees in every single room of the house.
She'd walked into her bedroom, then run back out screaming, "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!"
She'd creep into the kitchen, then come bounding back out, yelling "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!"
Finally, she laid in the floor, and covered her entire body with a blanket.
"Kate, honey," I said, trying to reason with her, "it's OK, there are no bees in the house."
I could see the form of her head nodding "yes" under the blanket.
"No," I debated, "I promise. I'll even get some bee spray (a can of deodorant) to be sure."
"Now, please come out from under that blanket and let me see how you're doing," I pleaded. "Show me where you were stung."
Her hand eased out and waved around-as if she was checking the air for bees-then she turned her hand palm-side up, and slowly folded down one finger after another until I had a tiny, raised, middle finger in my face.
"Kate...are you mad at daddy?" I asked.
I could see the form of her shaking her head "no" under the blanket.
She kept thrusting her middle finger in my face.
And then, along comes Drake...
"HEY!" he shouted, "Kate's givin' you the 'bird.' "
"No, no, I think she's trying to show me where she got hurt," I explained.
"No, I don't think so," he said. "I think she should be punished, and I should get a Nintendo DSi."
"WHAT?!" I cried.
"I want a DSi, too!" Kate barked from under the blanket.
"This has nothing to do with video games!" I said.
Kate jumped up and literally got in Drake's face.
"DWAKE!" she stomped. "I got stunged."
And she proved it by placing her (injured) middle finger right in his face.
Drake backed away as if his sister's finger was a gun.
"Kate," I said, "You're going to have to stop showing everybody your "boo-boo."
"No!' she said, "I'm gonna show everybody!"
Drake shook his head.
"Do you think she knows what she'd doing?" I asked Drake.
"Yeah," he said, "she's kinda mean."
"Kate," I told her, "let's be careful about showing anyone where you got stung, OK?"
"OK, daddy," she said, "But I can show you one more time?
"Sure, I guess," I relented.
Kate proudly raised her middle finger high into the air and giggled.
Drake and I looked at each other.
"Uh, Kate," I said, "I thought you got stung on the other hand."