Summer Greeting Card
Christmas greeting card are popular, but I thought I'd write a summer one, as things are much more exciting when we come out of hibernation.
Richie was stung by a swarm of bees, after stepping on a hive. My mom managed to swat most away (he was at her house that day) but he was still stung 10 times. "Am I going to die?" he asked.
He had a fever and sleepiness the next day, but the doctor said he would be fine. He's not allergic.
But he looked so sad when I got to my mom's house and he was sitting on the sink with his shirt off, my mom covering each sting with a baking soda paste.
There's a certain heroism attached to multiple bee stings, though, and this comforted Richie, at least. My baby niece was also outside at the time. Luckily, my mom's friend drove by and saw the commotion. She got out of her car while it was still running and pushed the baby stroller out of the fray.
Later, my brother thanked Richie for taking the bees on all by himself, thus saving the baby from being stung. Then he looked at J.J., and just to include him, said, "You, too, J.J."
Richie's eyes darted up from his lethargy. "J.J. didn't get stung," he said.
Johnny said, "I did."
"You got stung once. I got stung 10 times," Richie said.
Just to set the record straight.
At about the same time, J.J. went on Singulair, which has changed his life. No more asthma attacks as of yet. He doesn't even have a runny nose anymore. He seems to feel better all around. Except that with summer comes water, a liquid that J.J. thinks should only be used as a drink, not as entertainment.
Johnny finished out the school year with a field day that included a fire truck spraying all the kids. Children react to being sprayed by a fire truck like it's the beginning of the world. They run. They scream. They lie on their bellies and pretend to swim in the puddles. It's like a fun version of mass panic.
J.J. was horrified by the spectacle. He watched them and wept. "Why would anyone subject themselves to that?" he seemed to wonder. Thus begins another summer with J.J. sweating out our time at the swimming pool without getting so much as a toe wet.
He's going to school next year, and we had our meeting at his preschool. He had me carry him through the halls and he threw a fit when he tried to play with a puzzle and the teacher said, "We have a rule. You can play with whatever you'd like, but first you must learn how to do it properly."
I think J.J. stopped listening after "we." His favorite word still being "me." I just hope something magical happens when he turns three that makes him ready for school. Potty training, maybe.
And marking the true beginning of summer: the end of new T.V. episodes.
Lost aired a season finale that left a big question. Those who got off the island said that the others in the plane crash died. Why did they lie?
Here's Jack, the leader of the plane crash victims, "answering" this: "Do you have any idea what would happen if we told people about the other survivors?"
Me: "Uh...they'd get rescued?"
Too bad I wasn't on the lifeboat to tell him this, because the thought didn't cross anybody else's mind, apparently. They're all like: "Oh my gosh. You're right."
Right about what? He didn't even answer his own question.
With the distraction of T.V. out of the way, I can focus on finishing my second children's book and first romance novel. Will they ever get published? Probably not. But if I don't set aside time to work on them, they'll never get written, either.
I've never heard a story where somebody wrote 10 books and none of them ever got published. It's more like they wrote 10, and the 11th got published. Hmm...I need to start writing shorter books. A couple board books maybe. Bee. Allergy medication. Firetruck. School. T.V. Book. There it is, our summer, so far, in six words.