I got stung by a freaking bee this weekend!
Normally that wouldn’t even be worth mentioning, but given the fact that Hazel has appointed herself president of the neighborhood bee watch - my unfortunate and chance encounter with the stinger turned into quite the to-do.
Prior to this, Hazel understood that bees elicit heightened emotion, but I don’t think she necessarily knew why.
She had the buzzing part down
but it was the stinging thing caught her totally off-guard.
We were walking, minding our own business, and this bee came out of nowhere and stung me on my pinkie.
I screamed. Loudly.
And shouted a few choice words while shaking out my fingers (turns out bee stings hurt way more than i remember)
Hazel was devastated. Inconsolable.
Completely besides herself that this Bee had the audacity to hurt me!
She clung to me, kissed my finger and vacillated between her whimpers of “ouuuuuuuuch” and “no-no bee”
We established two important things this weekend:
1. Hazel does not like bees
2. This girl has no tolerance for anyone (or anything) messing with her mama