I had an eventful Sunday. The family trekked down to New Jersey to meet up with some friends for our annual apple-picking excursion. A great opportunity to spend quality time with our friends and their kids while picking apples, buying cider, and even scoring an early pumpkin. Everything started out well – large apples hanging low on the trees of the orchard so my growing two-year-old could stand on his tip toes and pluck them into our bucket, sampling the sweet apples as we strolled the tree aisles, and stomping on the dead apples laying on the floor so they make a messy splat. Then, my son discovered an old wicker basket on the ground by one of the Macoun trees. The basket appeared as if it had been sitting there for several weeks.
As misfortune would have it, a swarm of bumble bees was feasting on the rotting apples underneath this old wicker basket. Next, things happened quickly. Bees, Bees, everywhere. My wife scooped up our son, and in that motion was instantly stung three times on her hands. She lost her grip on Jake who stumbled onto the ground. At this point, our friends tried to make a mad dash, but one of their kids was stung several times on his legs as he bolted. Now, my little guy was good and pissed off – screaming his head off. As I grabbed him to escape the chaos, he received his first bee sting on his elbow. As you would expect, this really set him off.
All is calm now. My wife & son are doing fine. Just a crappy ending to the start of a fun-filled day at the apple orchard. In our haste out of the orchard, our basket of freshly picked apples was a casualty. I am sure some family stumbled upon our filled basket among the Macoun trees and were wondering who had left them. So, we gained a few chinks in the armor with the bee stings, and came home empty-handed with no apples. I guess because we are city folk, we do not get exposed to bees that often, so the bee sting drama was a big deal to us.
As I read the newspaper later today, I realized that our family problems (i.e. a small bee sting) pale in comparison to some of the craziness that goes on locally. What really got me upset, was a two-year-old child getting pummeled to death because the mom’s stupid boyfriend was abusive…because “the little boy wouldn’t eat, acted up, cried, or wouldn’t recite his abc’s.” Sure, my little guy tests my limits and tries my patience so I get it that they can drive you overboard. But seriously, what does a two-year-old kid do to deserve physical abuse?