Every
summer since my kids were born, we’ve live at a lake, in the middle of nowhere
from June through September. It’s where they
really consider home.
Weekends
were filled with family, friends and crazy times. When Sunday evening arrived,
everything perfectly stilled and the next five days simply became moms and
kids on the lookout for the next great adventure.
We
discovered one, as some close friends were moving out of their fancy spread
across the lake and, coincidentally, a dumpster appeared in their driveway
right about that time. Always subscribing to the theory “One man’s junk is
another’s treasure”, it was catnip to us.
At
issue was the height of the dumpster… too tall to get a glimpse inside and no
ladder in the vicinity. Deciding the best way to know what it contained was for
someone to pop inside and take a look.
Assessing
our options for scaling the side, we had two 8-year-old girlie cousins and my almost
6-year-old wannabe tough guy who wasn’t the biggest risk taker in the world.
Where was my feisty daughter when we needed her? Summer camp?
We
huddle up for a plan. “Matt, you’re going in.“ “Ok???” he said with a large
dose of hesitation mixed with fright. “Take a look around. Give a shout and we’ll pull
you out”.
Who
does this to their kid?
After
2-3 minutes, he screams. “A Beeeeeee!!!! IT BIT ME!!!”
Fortunate
for us (NOT), the next day we visited the pediatrician for Matt’s yearly check up. Giving
him a pep talk before entering the office to ensure we were on the same page
about his very swollen, bee bitten fat lip, we discussed the meaning of the
word “confidence”. Between you and me, pal, “Got it!”
Dr.
Froelich: “Matthew, what on earth happened to your lip?” “My mom and my aunt
made me dumpster dive and I got bitten by a bee.”
Where's a good hole to crawl in when you need one?
