So we have been having a great week at our cabin - the kids and I. We race home for 48 hours to get taekwon do classes in and other dumb grown-up stuff (paying bills, grocery shopping, etc.) done before we race back up to the cabin for the weekend. We are going to look at a dirt bike and the boy is over the moon - I can't drive fast enough for him!
We meet up with Jaws to look at the bike and make a decision about it. The bike is too big for the boy, but the girl is just right! It is in great condition for a used bike. We buy it and head over to town to buy a helmet. The kids argue over the color of helmet so mom decides for them. Both were crying and I wondered why I even gave them a choice in the matter, ugh!
Back at the cabin, we unload the bike and give it a whirl. The girl is afraid, but does great. She tries turning and goes too slow and slowly dumps over. Really it was like slow-motion because she was trying to keep the bike up and see around the chin/neck part of the helmet. She was fine and just a little shy about another turn. We got her on again later and she was awesome. She stayed in first, but got the feel of the clutch and not "snubbing" it. Seriously, the bike gave new vocabulary to them.
While all this is going on, the boy is pouting that he wants a growth spurt so he can ride. In stead he 'suffers' riding the 4 wheeler up to 12 mph. Now I'm riding the dirt bike - and did an unplanned pop-a-wheelie, laugh like crazy, and try again - and the boy is on the 4 wheeler. We put our race faces on, lean toward the handlebars, and laugh at ourselves. Somewhere in this time, the boy parked the 4 wheeler, walked up on the deck to yell something to his dad or sister, but what I see as I come around the garage is the boy running and flailing his arms around. He found and disturbed a wasp nest!!
Several wasps seemed to have went up his shorts and he couldn't do much with the helmet on, screaming and running! I kill the dirt bike, slap down the kickstand and run after him. He's already inside and his dad is trying to rip off the helmet. I grab his shorts and rip those down. The boy gets all self-conscience and is trying to hold the shorts up or cover his stuff - while he still has his underwear on. Two wasps fall out of the shorts, Andy grabs the boy's foot to stomp them since we are on our knees and don't want to use our hands.
I apply some bug sting wipe and lotion and ask him questions, checking to make sure he can still breathe and is coherent. This is war! Making me worry about him going into shock when I am 20+ miles from the hospital. We keep monitoring him, but take every can of bug killer we can and spray an area under the bottom step on the deck. We didn't have much so Andy pulls out the gas can, pours enough over the area, and lights it up!
We are impressed by the flames, watch a frenzy, check on the boy, and I load him up to go to the store for more bug killer. If something happens to him we will be closer to medical help, and I can re-supply our arsenal to kill these things. He sustained 4 stings and is fine...I know the next time is just as scary so we are going to be proactive now. There will be drowning of the nests/hives, fire as necessary, and we are going to make sure we always have bug killer on hand! We will win!
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