Bloomin' Bees

I don't know what the weather is like around the rest of the country (because I haven't watched the news in 2 months), but here- its gorgeous. We've had temperatures in the 80s, sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, blah blah blaaaaah, its perfect.

Well except for today, with the awful winds that turn the sky red because of all of the clay thats been tossed up into the air.

But before that, just beautiful.

Its been so nice, even, that our tree in the front yard is blooming!



I thought it was maybe a fluke, the other day when I peered out the window to look down at the street from the second story, to see tiny little flower buds sticking all over our naked tree's branches, but- nope. Spring has sprung.

And apparently we're not the only ones excited to see the flowers.

Take a closer look...

There, down in the lower right hand corner. See him there? A cute lil' honey bee, helping himself to some delicious pollen.


Oh, and it looks like he has a friend coming to join him!


Um, and three more friends.


And a moth too! It just keeps getting better doesn't it?
So I stand back with the babies, just watching. We realize that the bees are much too busy to bother us, and continue on with our outing to the mailbox. I lean over to one side, from where I stand, and peek at the tree in the neighbor's yard. And then the tree or two beyond that. They're all a buzz with life. Yellow and black stripes flying through the air, bouncing from flower to flower quickly as they can before the sun goes down.

Normally, at the sight of a bee, I turn and run the other way. My Mother is very much allergic, and because I've never been stung, I'm terrified that I'm going to be allergic to.

And even though I'm sure that even if I was [allergic], it probably wouldn't be a life or death situation like the dramatic scene that I picture in my head, but, because of the unknown- I prefer to keep my distance. Meaning: I attack them with my vocal chords and flailing arms, and take cover at the soonest available opportunity.

But I'm learning to cohabitate. With the cute honey makers, at least. The blackjackets on the other hand, I will not hesitate to destroy with my heavy duty can of "DIE, you buzzy stingy thing, DIE!!".



So. It appears that winter has packed up and said goodbye, and spring has taken its place, making itself quite comfortable in our front yard.

And I don't even need to point out how clever I think I am for the the subject title, do I? I've already patted myself on the back for that one.

The Curious Baby Eats Her Tights

When you're a baby, everything is full of both uncertainty, and taste. If you don't know what something is, than you stick it in your mouth for an overall assessment. In the end, you still don't know what it is, but you know if it tastes good or not. And whether its soft and chewy or hard and rubbery- you just keep on slobbering. Because you're a baby, and thats what you do.

Which brings us to our story...

***

Once upon a time, in a land filled with homemade burp cloths, spur of the moment sing alongs, and always fighting siblings- lived a very curious baby. Not curious about sounds or scents, but curious about tastes.

She wasn't interested in the way that Mommy's shampoo smelt. No Ma'am. Thats for the Elephants with the big long trunks.

She never wondered why the conditioner made that popping sound when Mommy opened and closed it. Nope. That one was for the jerboa with the big big ears.

The curious baby just wanted to grab a handful of it, wet or dry, pig tails or loose- and taste it.

Well Mommy isn't always around. And if she is, sometimes her hair is just plain out of reach. Which isn't fair, if you asked the curious baby. And in situations like that, the curious baby jumps, with all of her wonder, into action, and finds something else to taste. And quickly. There isn't a moment for her and her precious salivatory glands to waste.


"Hmmm, I wonder about this"- she says, eyes nearly crossing as they focus on what it is that shes been tugging on with her hands for the last 3 minutes. The moment her binky hits the ground, her mouth becomes curious.


"What do y'all think?" She asks beyond the glass of the camera in front of her.

"Well I'm going for it", she then shouts!


At first its a little bit... stretchy tasting. Maybe with a little bit of second hand somebody-elses-foot-has-been-in-this-before-mine bite to it.



But within minutes, the curious baby simply could not get enough. She was hooked. She'd even go so far as to call herself a tight eater, if ever asked for a title.

The taste of the pink cotton and spandex combination was so great that- she dropped both utensils, and went looking for more.


Of course, no more pink fabric was to be found, even though she had another foot just inches away from her fumbling fingers, still completely dry and ready to be soaked with slobber.


The curious baby wasn't quite so curious anymore, after having eaten most of her legging in one sitting.

Until her Mama, who was hiding her freshly washed hair behind her enchanting camera, tried to take it away from the curious baby.

Then, the curious baby was suddenly very curious again.


"Don't take away my foot!", she shouts. "You can take my Giraffey and his crinkled up soggy tail that I love so much! You can take away my one piece sleeper outfit with the zipper that makes it so I can suck on the collar! You can take whatever you want, anything, just don't take away my foot!" she pleaded.

Until, that is, the curious baby's Mommy offered something that was maybe just a little bit better. *wink wink*


"Tights? What Tights?"

So the curious baby moved on. Forgetting about her tasty socks completely, the same way that she had forgotten about the wheel on her brother's monster truck, and the nose on her sister's heffalump.

But it wouldn't be long, until she dropped another bouncy blue rubber binky on the floor again, and craved some more uncertainty.

Because thats what curious babies do.