Don’t Kick Bees

(Kathy & Debbie, Easter 1964)

The summer day was calm and lovely, when a high-pitched, giggling squeal burst from the front yard.  I looked up momentarily.  Kathy, my younger sister was playing on the grass near a massive box elder tree that shaded our ancient farm house.  I returned to what I was doing, when I heard her again.  I decided I had better investigate and see what she was up to.

I could hardly believe what I saw.  She was kicking the bees off dandelions with her bare feet.  This was strange even for her!  I tried to talk her out of it, but no way!  She explained to me that it was fun and continued on her crazy way.

I shrugged my shoulders and left her to it.  It was only moments later that her giggle turned into a sharp, painful howl.  You guessed it—she had been stung.  She was so upset.  I tried to tell her that she had been warned, but it was too late.

Life is like that sometimes.  We get the warning but the fun blinds the stop sign, and in the end we choose to learn the hard way.  I was ten years old and had learned a valuable lesson.

Don’t kick bees!