Tom Hanks made the line "there's no crying in baseball" famous in the movie a League of Their Own and I thought about it the other night while two year old Danny sat on our porch watching me with the most worried look you can imagine.
You see I was crying and he didn't like it one bit.
We'd been outside saying hi to neighbors when I took Danny's hand to take him home. We said our "bye byes" and walked up the sidewalk towards the house when I felt a horrible pain in my foot. I was barefoot and had stepped on something. At first I thought it was a nettle or a thorn but it hurt so much worse than just a pucture. I saw something hanging off my toe and as I jumped up and down screaming in pain Su got to me and let me know it was a yellow jacket and it was still stinging me. I managed to swat it off, but the pain was really localized although there was nothing that could be seen, it felt like with every heartbeat searing pain would surge at the site of the sting.
I'll make a long story short. Su and our neighbors got me ice and Benadryl and motrin and, clearly I lived. (It took about two days for the ache to go away, but the first several minutes after I was stung were intensly painful.)
I didn't want to worry Danny but it hurt so much I couldn't stop my tears. He'd crawled up onto a chair on our porch and curled up, sucking his thumb and watching me as intently as he'd ever watched anything. After a few minutes I held him and told him I had a boo boo and that everything was going to be okay. He seemed somewhat unconvinced and remained subdued that evening.
But as much as it hurt I am so glad that it was me and not him that got stung. The yellow jacket sting I could bear. Danny in that much pain? I'm not so sure. -M
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