I have to tell you.

Yesterday morning, I was starting to make breakfast, when I heard this screaming and (near) swearing from under the kitchen.

Thomas sleeps/ lives/ inhabits this unfinished basement space in the house.

I thought I heard him say something like, I got stung by a bee!

I waited til he said it more than once.

I went to investigate, and, sure enough, he HAD been stung by a bee.

He knelt on it.

It was in his bed.

I gave him an antihistamine and some acetaminophen, and killed the bee for him.

This could be the grounds of much fun to be had in the days to come. Fun from his misery.

(I know, I'm STILL a bad mother!)

Just a few moments ago he started to wail, Ow.... Shoot... Ow...My Bum...

I called out to him... What's the matter?! Did you sit on a bee?

He was smiling when he told me to shut up.