Every Boy For Himself

Originally posted June 12, 2004 on a previous livejournal.com hosted blog.
A participant in Flashback Friday.

You know how parents are supposed to protect their young with every ember of fire inside them? Apparently, that’s not me. Jedi and I were lying on his blue-striped blanket in the middle of the living room floor, playing and giggling and having a fun Friday afternoon. Suddenly, I look above us and there is this ginormous bee monstrosity buzzing in midair. Before it had time to decide which head to land on, my instincts quickly kicked in. Without an ounce of hesitation, I ran for cover. Without my son.

I left my defenseless infant son to be attacked by a gigantic merciless stinging machine.

To add insult to injury, I left him there until the coast was clear as I peeked from safety around the corner. Luckily, it paid no attention to him as it made it’s way to the sunlight filtering through the window blinds. As soon as I could gather the courage, I swept up Jedi and scurried him to the sanctuary of his room.

At least J was home during this. With all my shrieking and squealing, he hurried in as fast as he could. Within minutes, the drone was dead and buried inside a napkin.

I’m willing to do just about anything for Jedi, but obviously getting stung by a bee is asking too much.