Cynthia Reugh’s 7-year-old daughter was studying an insect in the swimming pool at her grandmother’s place.
Young Brianna watched a wasp or yellow jacket struggling on the surface of the water. She was concerned about its fate. So she asked her mom what would happen to it.
Not wanting to sugarcoat the reality of nature, Reugh suggested the insect probably would drown. “Unless we rescue it.”
Moments later, Reugh scooped the wet bug out of the water with a potato chips wrapper. She placed it near the pool to dry.
It must have worked, because after a bit the flying insect was gone.
Happy ending? Well, sort of.
A few minutes later, Reugh got stung on the arm.
She and her daughter prefer to think the culprit was not the insect rescued from the pool.
But it’s hard to say. Wasps and yellow jackets don’t wear nametags.
Please share your “foul ball” story: Ever see some beered up bozo knock over a little kid in pursuit of a foul ball at a baseball game? Ever take one in the temple because you weren’t paying attention? Ever knock over someone’s 64-ounce beverage while reaching for a foul? Tell all.
Yes or no: Eating corn on the cob on a first date.
Just wondering: Are you old enough to remember American life before air conditioning?
On the bookshelf: “To Kill a Mockingbird” was published on this date in 1960.
Did you ever read it or did you just see the movie?
Sand season: It doesn’t collect just in swimsuits.
“My niece, Ashlyn (14), didn’t let a broken arm interfere with her recent Girl Scout trip to Costa Rica, where she enjoyed swimming in spite of her cast,” wrote Mildred Scheel.
After each swimming session, she carefully collected the sand that had accumulated inside her cast. “She now has an extra souvenir.”
Warm-up question: What’s next, after selfies?
Today’s Slice question: What, if anything, do you say to a stranger who appears to be on the way to acquiring a wicked sunburn?