Buzz has become oddly fascinated with bees.
Close to 90 degrees warrants a trip outside to our pool. That may be giving it more credit than it deserves since it’s kiddie-size, 18 inches deep at its fullest, barely off the ground. But it’s good for them. There’s enough room for floaties and to splash and kick. I’m sure to get drenched without ever needing to get in.
There’s also this valid point from my 8 year old. He said, “This pool is better than the bigger ones, because I’m not going to drown”.
So while they were splashing and kicking, my 6 year old was more concerned, or enamored, about the action he saw peering over the edge. Since it’s a small pool, it’s easy to see the ground. And working hard to gather its pollen, they were lumbering, almost hopping, from this clover to that. I tried to ignore their buzzing the best I could, but he was in awe.
“Buzz-buzz!”, he happily exclaimed, pointing in merriment as I shivered.
I am terrified of bees. But I have always said Buzz is my daredevil. I have to remind him again and again not to try to pet one. His moniker here apparently suits better than I ever could have imagined.