Bees
noun-
a honeybee
"Ow!"
"Sherlie are you alright out there?"
The seven-year-old Sherlock Holmes held his throbbing fingers, as tears sprang to his eyes. His mother was watching him while she did the dishes inside, and rushed out to the yard when she heard him crying.
"Sherlie!"
Sherlock ran to his mum, straight into her stretched out arms.
"Shh... Shh... It's alright my wee laddie. Your gonna be okay..." She crooned.
Sherlock snuffled into her wet shoulder, "But mommy it stung me! Am I going to turn into a bee like Mikey said?"
Mrs. Holmes rolled her eyes and prayed for patience to deal with her elder son.
"Now Sherlie... don't you listen to Myc, he was just playing!"
Mrs. Holmes tapped Sherlock's nose and kissed his red finger.
"Why'd it sting me, mum?" Sherlock asked. As he wiped at his eyes, trying to hold back tears.
"Well," Mrs. Holmes sat down in front of her son. "If you were a wee insect, and you saw this Huge! , giant creature lumbering towards you and your family, threatening the lives of everyone you care for would you die to protect them too?"
Sherlock's bight eyes showed he was following every word. He frowned when Mrs. Holmes finished speaking.
"Bu-... It's not dead mommy, is it?"
Mrs. Holmes realized she had said too much. She cringed and said, "Yes Sherlock, it died when it stung you. It cannot live without a stinger."
Sherlock's tears started flowing freely again.
"I-I Did-dn't want to kill it, mommy!"
Mrs. Holmes drew the sobbing boy close and picked him up in her arms.
"It's not your fault Sweety. That's just the way the world works. Now let's get some ice on the sting shall we?"
