But... I didn't mean it!

It's hot. It's so hot outside that we are sweating just thinking about it. The yellow sun has ducked behind the swollen clouds but it's just too hot to even rain! The clouded sky stays a light gray well into the midday. I'm sweating just thinking back about it still. 90+ degrees in pure humidity. Did I mention it was sticky too? Hot. Sticky. Miserable.

So on this miserably hot day we are on our way to the Sprinkler Park. Also known as the spray pad, the outdoor sprinklers that spray up from the soft asphalt in various mists, sprinkles, and showers. We tried a "NEW" sprinkler park. A new-to-us-never-been-there-before-lets-just-go-because-we're-too-cranky-from-the-heat-and-we-need-to-cool-off, sprinkler park and it's only 4 miles away.

We approach said Sprinkler Park and enjoy a quiet afternoon there. As we jump out of the car onto the molten lava blacktop my son, forgets his shoes at home. How does one leave the house without shoes? Especially on days like this one in which we could easily fry and egg on the front sidewalk.

So he jumps from the black lava asphalt to the grass and the kids go play in the sprinkles. I find a quiet shady patch by the tree and spread out my blanket and begin a little tapping on the laptop as the mist from the sprayers find their way over to me, a mere 4 minutes after we arrive I put the laptop away because the sprinkles were heavy. So I watch my children enjoy the spray and I myself, enjoy the mist. Soaking wet they come in for a towel and are ready for a break. The kids got bored, much too quickly from the playing in water and begin playing 'race'. Race to the fire hydrant halfway across the grass. Race to the tree and back. Race to mom and back. See who wins. So the race is on between my three kids and a friendly family of two other kids. I'm so glad we came all the way to the park on this stupidly hot day just to run in the grass.

As I pack up our blanket I put away the towels since they would rather play in the grass and now they are begging to play on the playground. So we head over to the playground for a good swing on the swingset before we go.

As the kids race up the hill Aaron falls to the grass.
"MOM! O, I stepped on something!" Of course the first words out of my mouth were.... "Aww....maybe next time you'll remember your shoes."
Truthful... maybe a little harsh at first but seriously, how did you forget your shoes son? I said it with a smile and his sad puckered lip made me bend down so I could kiss his boo-boo.

He rubs his foot and I find a smear of something... it looked wet. GROSS actually. That was my instant thought. GROSS! Someone just hawked a loogie on the grass and he stepped in it. It was right next to whatever he stepped on. The towel comes out and we wipe it off. Maybe it was, hmm... I'm not sure. Whatever it was it didn't really leave a mark but the bottom of his foot was a little pink. I search the grass thinking... o gosh... there are a number of things he could have stepped on. We were just next to a pine tree, maybe it was a pine needle. Nope. Hmm... well we are in a public park, maybe it was glass. Nope there are no cuts and nothing in the grass. JINKEES, maybe it was some kind of needle from a drug lord or something dangerous. (Yes my mind wanders to instantaneous danger in our friendly neighborhood splash park). So I'm on my hands and knees for fifteen minutes using my glasses as a magnifying glass trying to find just what he stepped on and find...Nothing.

We continue our day...of course now he's got MY flipflops on and he is really nursing the mystery pain of his foot. Limping... dragging his leg, and the word "ouch" comes out much too often. Yet, I'm barefoot racing across the molten lava pavement now and pinching my feet on the wood chips near the swings because I told him to wear my too-big-for-him flip flops. BUT, at least he had shoes on now. Hmm... why is it I am suffering now?

So a few minutes goes by and he is just in too much pain to swing. O geez, really? . So let's walk ALL the WAY back to the car now on the other side of the park, and go home. The other two kids are devastated by the fact we have to leave because Aaron has a mystery pain. As we walk back toward the grassy patch that claimed Aaron's foot we search again. As we cross the grass I look at his foot more closely. I see four of his toes are swollen and it's getting pretty pink and red-ish. I'm concered. What in the heck did he step on? I find NOTHING still. Except for the fact there were about five bees nursing the weedy-flowers in the grass.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOh. Now I get it! I tell him. "Son, you stepped on a bee and it stung you."

"But... I didn't mean it!" Were his priceless words. "Do you think it's dead?"

Yes son, it's dead. We wiped bee-guts off your foot without knowing it was bee-guts, thank goodness it wasn't a loogie!

A little sad, and a big frown. He repeats himself. "But. I didn't mean it."