Bee Sting and Connecticut

We went on a road trip to visit my family this weekend down in San Diego.

Before we left, as I was buckling the girls into their car seats, Lucas was attacked by a killer bee. Well, at least that's his version of the story.

As he frantically ran into the car, he shouted, "I can still see it's shadow." And, he was serious. The stinger plumped up at the center of a big, red, swollen area smack dab on the top of his forehead. He winced as I plucked it out and took a few moments to recover, clearly traumatized.

As we headed toward the freeway, he insisted his throat was closing in and his face was going numb. It wasn't.

One hour later on the road he commented, "it was only one hour ago I was attacked by a killer bee." Then again every hour on the hour, some variation of the drama was retold. The more disinterested I seemed, the longer and more detailed the story got.

When we got to San Diego, he discovered a coffee table book about Connecticut. I now know facts I never cared to know about one of Americas' smallest states. As I lounged on the couch - he spouted out a barrage of information. Did you know Yale isn't in the capital of Connecticut? Did you know that Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe are both from Connecticut? Did you know that Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe were neighbors? No, I didn't. And, I also didn't expect this to go on for an hour.

Sometimes, I just want a nap. Sometimes, it's hard to feel pity for a grown man with a bee sting- harassing me with pointless information about Connecticut. But most times I know I couldn't live without all of it. Today I am laughing. It's endearing, it makes my life interesting. I'll never be bored (well, Connecticut is pretty boring, but you know what I mean). I love my man.