I opened the patio door to let the dog out this afternoon and, no exaggeration, at least ten bees rushed in. Next thing I know, the dog is chasing the bees, the baby is chasing the dog (quite delighted with this new game), and I am chasing the baby while doing that ducking thing that is somehow supposed to protect me from the bees.
Baby successfully caught, I retreat to our bedroom (still bee-free) and consider my options. Perhaps I can abandon the rest of the house to the bees? We don’t use it much anyway. Maybe the bees will appreciate such a grand gesture and we can live together in peace. Maybe if I wait long enough, the dog will have them all taken care of? Probably not.
I cautiously venture from our safety zone to find that the bees have not, in fact, disappeared. They are everywhere-swarming the high chair, the garbage, the windows. And the trusty dog has given up the fight and is simply enjoying the show. I debate getting the fly swatter, but my hand-eye coordination really leaves a lot to be desired and that’s a sure way to get stung.
I managed to encourage most of the bees out the door they came in (dog too, lot of help she was), but in the end there were two that were very content buzzing low on the kitchen floor. Once J discovered them, he was sure they were a neat new toy just for him. In a flash of mommy genius, I grabbed a big tuperware bowl that he had been playing with before the whole fiasco started and trapped the bees underneath.
Except now I have a little bee-tent in my kitchen (and for a baby, that’s even more fun than the bees themselves). I suppose I could just leave them there? If I get duct tape, J wouldn’t be able to set them free (we can’t do that. The number one rule of bee etiquette is Don’t Piss Off the Bee, and I’m pretty sure that trapping said bee under a bowl breaks that rule). At least they have each other, and won’t be lonely. No one wants to die alone.
Except now I’m thinking about how all the honey bees are dying and how that’s bad for pollenation and our planet and now I am Part of the Problem. What kind of example am I setting for my son? Feeling a little guilty, I immediately begin Operation Free Bee. I find an empty box and cut off a side to make a bee-tent lid. Ever so carefully, I slide the cardboard under the bee-tent. As I carry the whole thing to the door, I tell the bees, “This is all been a big misunderstanding. Please don’t be angry, and tell your friends to be nice to me.” I awkwardly balance the bee tent and push the door open with my elbow, blocking the baby with my legs as I step outside. Cringing and returning to the protective ducking stance of earlier, I lift the bowl and prepare to face the Wrath of the Bee.
When nothing happens, I look down to find two crumpled bee bodies on the cardboard lid. My son watches with innocent eyes as I dispose of the evidence of the murdered bees. So much for good examples and saving the planet.
We are on the lookout for retaliation from the bee community.