Seven boys, around nine or ten years old, were on a water break from practicing baseball. As I walked past the group, I saw one of the kids swatting at a bee. The appearance of the insect prompted the querying of who is, and is not, allergic to bees. The few seconds of conversation I overheard went something like this:
Boy #1: “Have you ever been stung by a bee?”
Boy #2: “Yes. But I’m not allergic. Have you?”
Boy #3 (butting his way into the conversation): “I’m allergic to bees, but only a little bit. My arm gets red, but that’s all that happens.”
Boy #2 (ignoring Boy #3): “I’m allergic to three kinds of trees, and to mold.”
Boy #1: “I’ve never been stung by a bee. I’m not allergic to anything – but because I’ve never been stung by a bee, I don’t know if I’m allergic to them or not. I guess I must be, since I’m not allergic to anything else…”
And the boys continued to banter about who was allergic to what, and the symptoms that appeared when each affected boy was presented with his specific reaction-provoking stimulus, and how no one could bring peanut butter sandwiches for lunch last year because there was one kid who would DIE if he even LOOKED at peanut butter….
I grinned as the conversation transpired. It was so fun to hear the boys trying to make sense out of what must appear to be a highly illogical world…
Then at this point, the coach could tell that the boys were chatting more than they were drinking, and called out to the group to “Hustle!” back to their positions on the field. At the coach’s directive, I smiled again. In my mind’s eye, I saw these kids take the direction literally, and dance back out onto the field.
Silly sentiments for a Sunday.
P.S. Though not that far-fetched; if it’s good enough for prisoners…