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Last year my mom had a bee infestation. She noticed bees mysteriously, and frequently, appearing in the house, both alive as they buzzed 'round the windows and dead all over the floors. It was curious to say the least. Worth mentioning is my mom's allergy to bee stings. So where she usually overlooks creepy crawly, and in this case flying, things, this matter needed to be taken care of. I believe the story, which I've heard many times (it was kind of a big deal) but usually am only 1/2 listening (sorry mom), goes like this...
A young exterminator came and determined the nest was in the ceiling above the master bathroom. Donning full protective bee wear, he cut a hole in the ceiling to begin spraying. After cutting the whole and investigating briefly, he excused himself and went outside to make a phone call. My cute and clever mother listened in and overheard the unfortunate fellow lamenting to his superior that he was in over his head and needed back-up. Whether they did or did not send this back-up, I am not sure. I do know that the spraying was done and over the days that followed my mothered vacuumed up 100s of bees everyday. They just kept dropping dead from the ceiling, making a thick carpet on the bathroom floor.
This experience was traumatic for my mother. It completely occupied her thoughts, life and conversations. To a friendly, "Thank you for joining us this evening," all my mother could manage in reply was "I'm just so glad my bees are gone."
Anyway in one of the clean-ups, mom found the Queen Bee--huge, intact, stinger on, big beautiful wings. A perfect specimen! And what did she do? Box it up and give it to her Kindergarten teacher daughter of course! Very thoughtful (that is not sarcasm, I mean it). This year in setting up my little science investigation area, I put out this Queen Bee. I met my new children today and as they explored their new classroom, many were captivated by it.
One little girl (I wish I could post pictures of them--think thick glasses, bright, spunky dress, pigtails, thoughtful, and curious) and I stood together admiring the bee. After her examination little Kennady whispers, "Wowwwwww, that is big." "I know," I say, adding with emphasis, "That is the Queen Bee." Kennady continues to look, slightly more interested now. Then turning to me, she asked with complete sincerity, "Well, where is her crown?"
After checking her face for a giggle or smirk, I realized she was completely serious. And that, my friends, is why I love my job.