Run for cover

I've decided some calamity involving bees or wasps has occurred in the recent past in our neighborhood. 

Today, there were six people at the pool - two life guards, my girls, a friend of my girls, and me. As usual, I was allowing the life guards to do their jobs, while I read my book and the girls enjoyed the entire pool to themselves. 

Because my children know that I'm loving them by just being in their presence, they allow me to read pretty much uninterupted at the pool . . .  I know, fabulous training.  Anyway, during a very intense chapter, Claire decides to scream that Taylor has been stung by a bee.  No screams from Taylor, only Claire because she HATES anything under three centimeters that crawls or flies.  Book down.

Taylor casually walks over to show me a spot on her back that still contained a stinger - yes, I looked up from my book. Nothing too serious. T wasn't crying, and Claire had become calm because she suddenly realized she was safe, as the friend explained the bee died after stabbing her sister.  Love.

I think I've pulled out the stinger only to discover that my nubby fingernails have only broken the stinger.  I can hardly see the evidence of a sting on Tay's back, and she says it really doesn't hurt at all. But, I would really like to get the rest of that stinger. Tay says she has seen the lifeguards with a first aid kit, so we both walk over to ask if they might have tweezers . . .  Oh, good grief, "tweezers" will not be one of the 350 English words these lifeguards know. Yep, they have no idea. And, as I only have about 7 Cantonese words available to me, I say, "no problem" which, I'm pretty sure, is universal. 

I tell Claire and the little friend to go down to our place to get my tweezers.  No need to leave the pool because this is no big deal; we are all going back to swimming and reading as soon as the stinger comes out. 

But, while we are sitting quietly waiting on my tweezers, the lifeguards have gone down to get "help." Honestly, two of our front guards and a woman waving a phone (you know the Samsung "phones" that look the size of composition notebooks) have come to check on this.  This is a bit awkward. 

The woman asks where Taylor was stung. I show her Taylor's back.  "No, where in the pool?"  We point to a spot near the edge and she walks over and takes a picture. Of what? Then she comes back and asks to take a picture of Taylor's back. She couldn't even find the spot, so I had to point and she zoomed in on my pointing finger. 

Where are my tweezers?

The gaurds are talking on their walkie-talkies, and Taylor and I are saying how much we want to understand Cantonese at this moment, although I'm pretty sure I was translating this situation pretty well.

Finally, the tweezers! It takes me about three seconds to get the rest of the stinger out as two lifeguards, two security guards, and a very professional office worker look on. Again, awkward. 

Stinger out. Let's all go back to our jobs. All the girls jump back into the pool.  I replace my sunglasses and walk back to my book. The employees seem to be moving back to their appropriate places while looking for these dangerous insects on their way. Please.

Okay, reading.

Not ten minutes later, one of the guards returns with a form. "Excuse me, miss. Can you fill this out? It's procedure, just your daughter's name and contact phone number." Okay, sure. I smile and try to reassure him. I tell him that she is fine and I tell him that we really like bees because they are really good - you know, make the world go 'round. I don't think he understood.

Whew, back to my book.  NO!  He's back again in ten minutes. "Excuse me, miss.  I'm so sorry. Just one more question. Does your daughter need a doctor?" Oh my.