Bees are always around. And I don’t mean the kind that stings when their territory is invaded. I mean the word. Bees.
Just tonight the local newspaper announced that a team called the Bees was vying for first place in some sport. I didn’t have the interest to follow up below the headline, but the word itself caught my eye.
I remember when my sons were young. Kevin, the older, was on a Little League team called the Bees. This was before politically correct names became an issue, and everyone at the time thought it was a wimpy team name. No matter, the Bees stung again and again. Kevin’s team did well.
Remembering further back, one day Kevin and I were sitting in our living room reading books together. That is, I was doing the reading aloud, and he was doing the listening. We finished one book, and I said, “What do bees say when they fly backwards?”
I don’t know what precipitated the question. I only know Kevin was perplexed. So I gave the answer: “They say, Zubb, zubb.” There was a moment of silence. Then suddenly Kevin smiled. He understood. Zubb, zubb. It’s buzz, buzz backwards. It was the first “joke” my toddler “got.”
Even today, we laugh about it.