Taking the Sting Out

Earlier this week the neighboring farmer came down our lane with the hedge trimmer and trimmed the hedgerow.

This was very good for the paint job on my car. Unfortunately, it also exposed some massive wasps nests in the ground under some of the hedges. And when I say massive, I mean MASSIVE. Hubcap sized, at least.

We started out on Sunday’s field walk down this lane, and the Hubs took care to point them out so we didn’t wander too close.

However…(and isn’t there always one)

…when the Hubs and Boo left on their walk today down the same part of the lane (Boo is quite anxious to meet the neighboring farmer, since Boo is quite the John Deere fan, and this fellow has a shed FULL of them) we think Macy sniffed a tad too close to one of the nests, and stirred them up.

I’m sure you can guess where this is leading…

A few of them buzzed at Boo’s head….he put his hand over his temple and started to cry.

Worse yet, when the Hubs got him to take his hand away to show him what was wrong, a riled-up wasp buzzed away. Yes, Boo had trapped the little bugger in there, and he was stung. (And I think more than once.)

I heard the sobbing long before they even arrived back at the driveway, although it didn’t register at first that it was Boo – they had only been gone ten minutes, if that. His temple was swollen, and angry looking…and he wouldn’t let me near it. We gave him an ice pack until I could get a poultice of baking soda and water mixed up, but it hurt too much to touch…

…which didn’t bode well for the baking soda. You would THINK I was asking him to put a hot poker in the other eye, for how much my boy fought me on it.

After 25 minutes of pleading, coercing, and a bit of yelling, I half-sat on the poor boy and dabbed the baking soda paste on his forehead.

He screamed bloody murder.

I came back with some Benedryl (you’d think it was hemlock, oh, the drama), some water…and Daddy (the “good guy” in today’s scenario).

During all this, Macy had come up to his room and was curled up anxiously by his feet.

No where soon enough, the medicine kicked in, he calmed down, and they both fell asleep while Macy stood guard over her boy.

Then, feeling wrung-out, guilty for not handling Boo more gently, and generally stressed out (I learned quickly  that my father-in-law had been very allergic to stings; and while Boo had never been stung before – he was crying so hard, he was nearly hyperventilating, which had freaked me out completely) I went downstairs and practically rocked in a corner.

I also felt about one-inch tall for losing my temper with him – I knew it hurt, but WHY wouldn’t he let me give him anything for it? I was a mess. And this was ridiculous.

I mean, it was a WASP sting, people.

I am obviously NOT good in the trauma department.

(Drama yes, trauma, no.)

* * * * *

Of course, the story has a happy ending. Not being helicopter parents, when Boo woke up, we all went on another walk with the dog (since the first one only lasted about ten minutes), yes, down the same stretch of road (with me anxiously dragging Macy away from the edges of the road, thankyouverymuch, wishing I had a large can of wasp spray to hold in front of me, like a wasp ninja), Boo with a massive white blob of dried baking soda on his temple, which was now crusty and cracking and crumbling off him as we walked.

(Because we weren’t allowed to touch it.)

Nice.

Comments

  1. At least now you know he isn’t allergic. Something important out of the trauma.

  2. Aww wee soul. I’ve never been stung but my youngest did when he was a baby and he screamed and screamed. Such a sore thing. x

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