Attack of the bees

Yesterday, on Jesse’s last summer Friday (read: he gets out of work at 1 pm), he picked up CW from daycare. They came to my office for a short visit, we ate some pizza and then they headed to Washington Market Park at the end of Duane Street.

Charlie and I have visited this park many times, as it’s only a few blocks from daycare and it has a really cool playground. There is a play spot for younger kids, one for older kids, a big pirate ship-shaped sand area and a water area with water wheels and sprinklers. I had not been back at my desk for very long when Jesse called to tell me that bees had attacked our baby.

Charlie was playing at the water wheel when he began to cry. Jesse moved closer and found a swarm of bees hovering around Charlie. “I thought the bees were going to attack him,” Jesse said. “So I scooped him up and ran away. But one followed us.” A crazed bee pursued them across the playground. Even extensive defensive maneuvers couldn’t keep the bee away. It got INSIDE Charlie’s mouth. He cried, which was when Jesse saw it hovering above CW’s tongue. Charlie closed his mouth, keeping the bee inside, but then cried again and the bee flew out. It still wouldn’t leave, so Jesse swatted it like a baseball and sent it reeling to the ground.

Charlie saw a bird and soon calmed down, so Jesse assumed he hadn’t been stung. We thought all was well.

Then, later that night, while giving CW a bath, I saw a spot on his side. It didn’t look much different from a mosquito bite. But when I put him to bed a little while later, I saw that it was swollen, slightly red and when I touched it he flinched in his sleep. He’d been stung. A quick call to the doctor gave us the correct Benadryl dosage, but I felt so bad for our little adventurer.

I know scrapes, bruises, cuts–and bee stings–are just part of the growing up game. I just sometimes wish Charlie could play without them.

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