"Stinged by a Bee"

I have often thought about how most, if not all, of what happens to Austin right now in his life he will forget. That's not to say that it does not impact him, for better or for worse. But, unless he's an unusual creature, he won't remember any of it. But one of these days, he's going to have his first permanent memory, and I always wonder about when that's going to be.

I have a few early memories from Jacksonville, Florida, and I'm not sure how old I was during each , but I had to have been pretty little. Interestingly, some of my early memories are from rather routine moments. I remember a big cocroach climbing up the wall while we were eating dinner, I remember walking into the living room with Rachael and watching TV, I have a snapshot view of the garden in the backyard, and I remember distinctly a long conversation with Daniel Cousler's mom about a Superman "cape." I had no concept of what a "cape" was and remember being not only confused, but embarrased, by my lack of knowledge. Eventually my mom taught me what a cape was, made me a Superman cape, and I wore it incessantly thereafter for quite some time.

Last night, after a delightful dinner of Chilean Sea Bass, roasted vegetables, and parmesan orzo (thanks Gayle!), I ventured outside with Austin for some time on the playground before bedtime. Our trip ended short of the playground, as I stopped to enjoy some moments on neighbor Mark Hardacres porch, and Austin to play on the porch by himself and with Mark's daughter, slightly older in age than Austin. At one point, Austin went around the porch and was playing with rocks. I had one eye on him and one eye on Mark. Suddenly, I noticed about 10-15 bees or wasps swarming around Austin, and I saw Austin begin to panic. I nonchalantly moved to bend over the railing to pick Austin up, but before I could do so, Austin began to WAIL. He got stung by a bee.

Bless his little heart, tears streamed down his face and he buried his head deeper and deeper into my chest, hoping that the closeness would give him comfort. He soon settled down and the good Dr. Mark (an optometrist) pulled a band-aid out of his wallet with theatrical flare indicative of his background as both a doctor and a dad. He tenderly put it on Austin and Austin's mood immediatley lifeted from hurt feelings to one of triumph. I got "stinged by a bee," he proudly said. Following in the footsteps of my father and wife, I immediatey corrected his grammar and said, no, you got "stung" by a bee.

After I finished talking to Mark, I walked back home with Austin and, with a skip and a hop in his step, he kept repeating, "I got STUNG by a bee" with an emphasis on the "stung." And he kept telling me he was going to tell mommy, which he did with pride as soon as we got home.

I wonder if that will be Austin's first memory, one starting with pain and anguish and ending with a prideful feeling that only a two year old can find after being stung by a bee. I wonder.

Addendum: In response to Barry's comment (see infra, and thanks Barry), I thought I'd post a picture of the scab. Yes, I made an AWESOME catch. That thing burned like a mother overnight though. I'm not sure where the scab picture will post because I'm still learning my way through this Blog thing.