The Crazy Bee Dance

Sometime this summer, a queen and her yellow-jacketed workers took up residence in the siding of our house. Their nest could only be accessed through a crack between the foundation of our front porch and the edge of the siding. Their location was particularly bothersome due to the fact that their flight paths crossed our front porch and walkway. Caleb was stung twice one day while standing near the front door.

After Caleb was stung, we attempted to spray the entrance to the bees’ home but after two cans of pesticide, the bees were still hanging around. One morning last week, Jon decided to give the spray another try.

I’d just left Caleb at the bus stop and was nearly home when I heard Jon let out a loud yelp. I knew immediately that he’d been stung but it wasn’t until later that he told me he’d actually kicked the side of the house in the very spot where the bees resided. Now why an otherwise intelligent man would purposely aggravate a nest of yellow jackets is beyond me, but as you’ll soon see, it was poor Caleb that would become the greater victim in this case.

You can’t really blame the bees for wanting to defend their home. They were mad, and they knew exactly who the perpetrator was. Those bees were on Jon like white on rice. And he freaked out. He ran from the porch to the driveway and began swatting wildly. He was ducking, stomping and slapping and his head with his hands. He covered a large area of the driveway with his spastic movements.

Jon’s not a small man and his gestures not dainty. I stood a few steps away, not knowing how to help and unsure of whether it was Jon or the bees that I feared more. As this outrageous bee dance continued, I heard the rumbling of the school bus. As it drove past our house, I turned to see Caleb’s puzzled and concerned face in the window as he managed a confused sort of wave.

“Jon! You’re acting like a maniac and the bus just drove by.”

The whole scene reminded me of the African Anteater Ritual. Remember this?



Jon continued swatting even after returning to the house. He was traumatized for the rest of the day, constantly sensing movement and buzzing near his head. I called the exterminator right away.

Later that afternoon, as my neighbor and I stood on the porch discussing the school bus bully, I apologized for the bees that were flying in the vicinity. I explained that Jon had been stung that morning and that I had an exterminator coming. Her two daughters—the two that ride Caleb’s bus—said, “Oh, is that what was wrong with him this morning?”

Caleb then spoke up and said, “Yeah Mom, some eight graders were making fun of Dad and saying, ‘What’s wrong with that man?’ I had to get mad at them and say, ‘Hey, don’t make fun of him, that’s my dad!”

Poor Caleb. Many middle schoolers already begin to feel that their parents are an embarrassment to them and here is Caleb’s father doing a crazed bee dance in the driveway.

As we laughed about it days later, Caleb said, “Oh no, don’t talk about the bees again.”

Jon responded by saying, “Caleb, I’m so sorry that that happened in front of your bus.”

“Oh Dad, you don’t need to be sorry. It’s those stupid 8th grade girls that were making fun of you that should be sorry. I had to make mad faces at them.”

Most kids would’ve hid their heads in shame but Caleb came to his father’s defense. Nice of him, but I’m sure it doesn’t make coping with his social disabilities any easier.

The exterminator came. The bees are gone—along with one hundred of my dollars. And this is going to be one of those family stories we tell again and again just for a good laugh.