Wednesday night, Eric was on the couch. He was sitting quietly, reading for his school assignment. . .the peace was suddenly shattered by his shrieks. Wasp!! Wasp!!!
A wasp landed at his waist, walked under his shirt. Apparently, wasp feet tickle. When you start identifying their species, tho, wasps take offense and start stinging. That one wasp stung him four times on his back before Dan was able to get Eric's shirt off. I couldn't help until the wasp was >ahem< "removed." I'm pretty much scared of wasps.
Holy cow. Wasps leave big holes. So I check the internet, primarily to find out how many wasp stings is too many. (Ten. ten-to-twenty, seek medical care) I give him kid's motrin and a half shot of benadryl, and get him a nice big ice pack for more immediate relief. He's still not feeling quite better, so I call in the consolation experts--Cartoon Network! Dan points out that you're not supposed to use ice for more than twenty minutes. I ask him if he thinks Eric will sit still for twenty minutes. Really. It's okay.
Once he's adequately comforted, I leave him here with Dan to go buy a bomb. We suspect they have a nest in our chimney. Their nest is a wasteland now. We bombed them last night in their waspy sleep. I feel vindicated.
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