On the second to last Wednesday in June, there's always a parade in my town. It passes almost directly in front of our house and we've gone every year we've been here. It's cute and quaint. Old fire trucks, bag pipers, grandmas in leotards twirling batons (seriously....there are two). Tonight did not disappoint. We spread our blanket next to our neighbors, while the kids bounced around. Sure, I noticed a couple of big black bumblebees flying around, but hey, we're outside. On the grass. No big. Well...BIG. All of a sudden, Miss Monkey is screaming and flailing, I jump up to grab her only to fall back down clawing at the beasts attacking my head, my husband's running across the street with her over his shoulder, and the rest of neighborhood is staring at us like the freakshow we are!
Seven bee bites later....five on her legs, two smack in the middle of my face (awesome)...we're done. Our last town parade. At least we'll never forget it!