When my son...I think I'll call him Nate, was about seven, bees had it in for him. On his seventh birthday, a bee stung him right in the face at his birthday party. Then a few months later, I took him fishing at a pay lake and a bee caused him to completely lose his dignity. Except that it wasn't really a bee. It was a fly. He only thought it was a bee. But technically since he thought it was a bee, and since he feared them due to the birthday party incident, you could say that bees were at fault for the loss of dignity also.

A pay lake is one of those places where the trailer park crowd is likely to hang out. I hadn't realized that until I actually went to one. I just wanted my son to have the experience of catching a fish and wasn't sure where to take him. A pay lake, which is just what it sounds like...you pay a certain amount of money and you get to fish all day, seemed like a good idea because I assumed it would be well stocked with fish. There may have been a lot of fish there, but there were also a lot of rednecks there, and a lot of trash, and very little in the way of grass.

I think it's generally true that where you have a lot of rednecks, you're likely to find port-a-pottys.

So Nate's in this port-a-potty doing whatever it is he went in there for, and I'm waiting for him outside (on account of I'm his mom and didn't want any rednecks to kidnap him and sell him into white slavery on his way back to where we were fishing). Then BOOM, the door to the port-a-potty flies open, and out comes Nate, butt-first, shrieking, with his pants around his ankles. Every head turned. Of course he bit the dust immediately because it's really difficult to move fast backwards when your pants are around your ankles. I know this because I've tried it.

It was when I was helping him cover his...dignity...that he explained about the bee. Which turned out to be a fly. A little one.