A Cure for the Bees

Tonight after church our family made our ritualistic trip to McDonalds to get ice cream.

Meltdown opened the doors and headed straight for me. "I be stung."

Be? Stung? A bee? Oh, no. Bees are classified under the "things that sting" category, making them fair game for my insect hatred.

A few question and answer rounds later, I understood the situation. A bee had landed on Meltdown, and she flipped out. It did not actually sting her, thank goodness. She just equated the sheer terror of the buzzing maniac landing directly on her arm to a sting.

By the time she found me, the drama of the story had only increased. Fortunately, sharing her story seemed to make her feel better.

"Meanie bees - I know just the thing for that. Do you?" I asked her.

She grinned up at me. "Yup," she said matter-of-factly. "Ice cweam."

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