Responsible parenting and leadership are a start. In between reaching for the sky (Toy Story rocks).

Screw the darkness. I prefer the lightness of Pop.

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Because I Empathize

The girls screamed and scrambled out of the car when I opened the car door. That's when I saw it fly out and rest on the car door, what looked like a little blue wasp. The girls wailed ten feet behind the car while the Mama (what I lovingly call my wife) tried to console them.

Only a few minutes earlier we were finishing a pleasant vacation lunch near Pu`uhonua O H┼Źnaunau (Place of Refuge) in Hawaii. We sat in a rental car because a few minutes before that another wasp had been flying too close to our picnic table where we originally start to eat lunch, which had primarily scared Beatrice to death.

"The wahps is going to get me," she complained as we ate.

"No, it's not," I said. "And say wahs-pa. It's wahs-pa. Wasp."

"Wahs-pa."

"Good. Now, they won't bother you if you don't bother them."

"You said they were meaner than bees," Bea countered.

"No, I said they were more aggressive than bees, and again, they'll only attack if they feel threatened. Same with bees, except wasps can still you over and over."

That's really going to help, I thought. Well done, Daddy. The wasp flying around us was looking for food and wasn't going anywhere any time soon. 

"That's why wahps are meaner."

"Wahs-pas -- wasps. And again, they won't sting you if you don't bother them. Right Mommy?"

"Right," the Mama answered.

It was at that point Bea made it very clear we were moving to inside the car to get away from the wasp. So we gathered the cooler and other lunch items and got in the car. Having a fear of bees and/or wasps isn't that uncommon -- in fact, the phobias known as melissophobia and spheksophobia are pretty common overall, although people are stung much more frequently by wasps than bees. For Beatrice, it all started when she fell on a bee and it stung her on the wrist nearly a year ago. The pain and fear combined was enough to start the phobia reeling inside her and ever since the bee/wasp anxiety remains. 

Meanwhile, sitting in the car and finishing our lunch, everything slowed down. I empathized with Bea; my primary fear is of heights and I've worked on it as an adult, pushing myself to take on high places when I can, safely of course. I thought about what we could do to help her overcome her fear over time. We'll get there, I thought. In the meantime we'll have fun at our next stop, the honey farm--

"There's a wahps in the car!"

Jesus. No.

Flailing and screening from the backseat. The Mama jumping out and opening the back door on her side and shouting at the girls to get out. More flailing and screaming. Bryce jumped out. 

I found myself getting out and opening the car door calmly. Beatrice flew out shrieking. That's when I saw it fly out and rest on the car door, what looked like a little blue wasp. 

"The wahps is going to sting me! Mommy, keep it away! Keep it away!"

The wasps, I thought. Again, not helping.

After everyone calmed down, including and especially Bea, we got back in the car and drove to the honey farm. Where there were lots of bees. Needless to say, even after the proprietor assured the Mama that most of the honey bees were behind netting, there were still bees in the wild flying around.

But only Bryce and the Mama went in to taste the honey. Beatrice and I stayed in the car. 

"Daddy, why are wahps meaner than bees?" 

"They're wahs-pas -- wasps -- and they're not meaner, sweetie, just more aggressive. Like I told you before, they usually only sting when they feel threatened or their hive is threatened. Same with bees. We're safe as long as we don't threaten them."

"Can you roll up the window, Daddy?"

"No, sweetie. It's too hot outside."

"But the wahps."

"No."

Because I empathize. We gotta start somewhere, right?

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