I suppose it would have happened sometime.

We, the Tyler Wilkins family, live in a townhouse. We love it. Well, I love it. Really. A super plus is that we have a backyard. Granted, it a teeny tiny backyard, but it's fully fenced in, and it's just ours. And I don't mean fenced-in in a 'private' kind of way because we are back to back with an apartment building. It's not private, but it's safer than my children running around in an area that I can't keep track of them.

One major downfall of our backyard: Yellow Jackets. Hornets. Nasty, tempermental, horribly awful insects. I hate those things and my backyard is a major breeding ground. There's my back story.

This morning Bailey came in screaming that there was a bee (bee in our house usually means hornet). I came to where she was thinking that there was no way there could be one in the house because it's been to wet and cold for the nasty little things to be out. So I looked around, opened up the blinds, listened for any humming . . . nothing. So I told her it must have been something else.

Fast forward four hours. I'm sitting at my computer (of course) and Boston starts crying. Not hard, so I didn't do much for a minute. So he doesn't stop crying and Bailey starts getting concerned. I finally walk over to survey the situation. Hornet. Lying mostly dead next to my crying son. AAAaAaaAAHHHHHhhHhh!!!!!! My poor baby!!! He got stung on his tiny little finger right under his nail. GGgggrrrrrr. So mad.

Good news: Boston isn't allergic to hornet stings. His finger got a little swollen and it looks fine now. He was a trooper and cried more when I was trying to keep a cold rag on his hand. He's cool.

I hate hornets. I would kill them all if I could. But I will try my hardest to kill all those that dare come in MY yard this summer!!!