She’s a right little Dr Doolittle. There’s something irresistible about her hands to animals. She can blow huge bubbles around the bathroom, and she can tempt newts from the garden. Or hoverflies from flowers. I don’t know what it is about her hands, but she’s usually got something crawling all over them.
This morning a wasp wanted to cuddle up to her. It buzzed all around her skirt as she balanced on the playground beam. It landed on her shoes, her skirt, her hands. It was determined to get close to my lovely girl! She rebuffed its advances, so the little fecker stung her on the inside of her wrist.
My poor, poor baby! She squealed in surprise at one of her Normally Loving Subjects daring to hurt the Queen of the Insect World. Then she cried in pain. She’s never been stung before.
I distracted her with a bit of a chemistry lesson as I marched her home again, and why I was going to put some vinegar on it. She’s 6, so she’s not got much of a clue of what an acid is, never mind an alkali. But a quick splash of vinegar, a spoon of anti-histamine, a big Mummy Cuddle, and she was fine to trot back to school, saying that it was feeling better. The sting quickly came up in a white donut against an angry red background, hence me giving her some medicine. Hopefully she won’t be too drowsy. And hopefully the fact that she smells like a fish supper won’t make her teachers feel too hungry…