Cierah's week (part 1)

My Cierah had a baaaaad week. Now generally speaking, you wouldn't think of four year olds as having any real shot at bad weeks, what with all the adults taking dibs on them. But I assure you, hers has not been the dandiest. A little recap music, mistro!

Several days ago, we enjoyed a visit to some nearby falls. The kids like to toss branches into the river and watch them ride over the edge and plunge into the depths below. While they were searching for branches, I happened upon an even better toss,...WALNUTS! Seriously, how fun would it be to wing walnuts into the river and watch those little green spheres bob along with the current, then to try to spot them again below?

"Hey, kids! Mommy found walnuts over here. Look! We can throw these in and they're here for the taking."

Pitter patter they came, hauling away as many walnuts as their little arms could carry. Cierah was having a bit of trouble with hers though, because, well, when you're four, it's two walnuts forward and one walnut back as you attempt to collect them. After many rounds of pick one up, drop two, she finally said, "I'm jis' gonna git one mow, momma."

And so she did. Only,....what's that???
My eyes were mesmerized by some morphing shape of something that my brain just couldn't identify. You know how you spot something, perhaps in the distance, and you think, 'what in the world am I seeing?' (Carl calls that Toni's World, that special place where I see all kinds of things that others miss, like tree stumps identified as bunnies or white garbage bags appearing as albino foxes, but we'll not venture there today. Besides, my Lasik surgery has helped tremendously in that regard. Well okay, that and sleep.)

So anyhoo, when Cierah had picked up her last walnut, I saw this, this...thing. A morphing, moving something. My mind was singing Things That Make You Go, "Hmmm?" when all of a sudden it clicked. BEES! Bees were pouring out of a hole in the ground where Cierah had picked up her last walnut. They literally poured out as lava from an erupting volcano. And they weren't happy.

With great urgency, "BEES! RUUUUUUUN!"
Reece had been within a foot or two of Cierah when the little terrors began their angry outpouring so I had not one but two littles to protect. Of all times to have to put our obedience training to the test, this was it.

I want interject here that the Indy 500 has a pace car. And greyhound races have a rabbit. It seems the best races are run only when there is some lead to set the proper pace. Thus it's only fitting that I lead them away from those angry insects by demonstrating what "fast" looks like. PACE MOM! Who knew?

I know, I KNOW! I should have scooped a child up under each arm like a competitor in a strong man competition, but as you know, insects and I don't get along. I wasn't thinking that clearly. But I sure did show them how to haul out of there. Oh yes I did. And I'm sure the wind current I generated as I sprinted by created some thrust to move them along.

Minutes later, we were all a safe distance away from the angry mob and thus began our walnut launch. The kids had a blast taking turns, first tossing then watching as they cleared the falls. When Cierah exhausted her supply, she asked for one of mine.
"Sure, honey. Momma's just going to crack one open first to see what's inside."
Her response made the hair on my head stand on end, as she let out a blood curdling scream that concerned and bewildered the entire family.
"What? What? Cierah, honey, WHAT..IS..WRONG?????"
After several attempts at telling us between hysterics, she finally got one intelligible word out. "BEES!"

She was holding her armpit at this point so Carl began yanking her shirt off at the same time that I was barking orders for him to do so (truth be told, I was terrified at what we might find.) And sure enough, a bee fell out of her shirt.
And my poor Cierah had been stung in the armpit.
Twice.
And she fears bugs as much as I do.
And she's only four.
And I was wondering who had the Epi pen because, while I was concerned over whether she might experience an allergic reaction, it was I who was having trouble breathing at that point (due to the willies I had over a bee being under her shirt).


When it was all said and done, Carl was making jokes about how best to encourage me "next time" (as if), things like, "Run faster! They've got a taste for flesh!" And we had to buy Cierah a banana milkshake to cheer her up after her awful encounter with ground dwelling bees. I'd have had one myself, but the thought of anything yellow at that point was entirely too traumatic for me. I didn't need all those milkshake calories anyways.
I opted for a Reese's Cup instead.

Tune in next time for the conclusion of Cierah's Week, Part Deux. Ever wind a 'copter in your locks? The saga continues.

Toni