Boys. Bricks. Bees.

Before you read any further you MUST watch this video.

Did you watch it? No?

Go. Watch. The. Video.

I own this particular DVD (which has several incredibly humorous skits on it) but I saw this clip on YouTube, first. In fact, I laughed so hard at the, "throw a brick at my head" part that I had to watch it again just to hear everything. I particularly loved it because I have a boy, and he would do something like this! In fact, let me give you a recent example.

This past weekend Bethany came bursting through the door, and announced that she needed my tweezers because Caleb had a bee stinger in his hand.

He has a what?

A bee stinger in his hand. He got stung.

In a few moments Caleb came along, holding his hand out for me to see. Sure enough, stuck into the pad of his palm was not only a stinger but the entire rear end of the bee it had once been attached to.

Umm... wow, Caleb!

Yeah. I know.

Thankfully you aren't allergic to bee stings (we didn't know that before this incident). How on earth did this happen?

Oh, I was catching bees.

blink. blink.

You were what?

I was catching bees.

On purpose?

Yeah.

I was doing this: He made his hands perfectly still, and mimicked holding them next to a flower where a bee sat. Suddenly he cupped his hands together, and showed me, rather triumphantly, his hold on the imaginary bee.

Did you not think you would get a bee sting from this activity?

Caleb looked at me perplexed. I waited for the answer. I figured he was mulling over my profound question, and realizing the foolishness of his behavior. In fact, he was trying to understand how I could be so dull. He decided to explain the obvious:

I didn't get stung the other times I did it.

We will be listening for the whistle of flying bricks.