Chris has had more bee stings in his life than I have in mine. Last Friday after he came inside from playing I noticed a red spot on his neck under his ear. I looked more closely, afraid it may be a hive from something he ate or got into and it looked like a bee sting, but I wasn't sure. Here's the conversation that followed:
Me: "Chris, what's that on your neck?"
Chris: "A bee stung me."
Chris: "When I was playing in the sandbox with my baby brother."
Me: "Did it hurt?"
Me: "Did you cry?"
John: "Where was I?" (He was outside with the boys.)
Chris: "In the garden."
John: "Did you try to tell me you were stung by a bee?"
Chris: "No... why?"
Apparently he's been stung so many times it's just commonplace to him now.
Yesterday, while I was doing dishes, my little Mr. Independent walked through the kitchen holding his shoes and socks. I asked him where he was going and he said "outside to play with my train on my water table," and proceeded to open the door and walk out back. He made it to the porch, sat down on the step and struggled with his shoes and socks. He came back with one sock partly on and said he needed help. "With your shoes?" "No, filling the water table." Unfortunately, I'm thinking he's still too young to play outside alone.
Week Fourteen of #45: Read. Act. #Resist
10 hours ago