The biting elephant

There couldn't be anymore people in the kitchen. That is typical, I'm sure for anyone's kitchen on Thanksgiving afternoon. Even over all the chatter that was going on, I still heard my little girl crying.

I rip around the corner and there she stands wailing, while holding a small stuffed baby elephant. I thinking, "ok, either something horrific has happen to her little friend or there was an elephant attack that I wasn't aware of." I scoop her up and in between sobs she informs me that "it" bit her. (apparently she was attacked by the elephant, lol) Naturally, my next question was what? What bit you? "Something in the elephant," she tells me. Before she got the rest out, I could see that she was bitten by a bee. I was relieved that it wasn't the elephant. I would have hated to have put the thing down right there in the living room, being Thanksgiving and all.

Daddy is VERY allergic to those honey making babies and with her never being bitten before, I quickly look in all the key areas for any welts or rashes. Nothing. A little bit of ice and she was off and running.

There was some swelling later that evening and by Friday night this is what it looked like. We called her club for the rest of the weekend. Mean, I know but still sorta funny.

I think it's about time for a manicure, huh?

"It's not so much how busy you are, but why you are busy. The bee is praised; the mosquito is swatted."

- Marie O'Conner