Coronado Island drama

We've made two excursions taking friends to Coronado Island in the last week. The ocean is a perfect temperature for wading and snorkeling. There are no stinky dead squid yet washed up on the Coronado shores. However, the bees are a nuisance. Maybe a picnic on the beach is not a good idea--the minute you pop open a soda you have company and more company. Soon we were abandoning our picnic spot and moving further into the shoreline. Our little maltese, Chloe, was confused and annoyed by them. The children resorted to burying her in the sand to hide her. We had fun with that until people starting getting stung.

Robert was stung on the tip of his tongue as he took a swig from a thermos. By then, everyone was eager to depart, but bees were swarming the boat preventing us from boarding. The children were now half-panicked and near tears. I waded out from the shore with them to try to escape the bees while Robert and the other adults fired up the boat and sped off shore to blow them off. We waited like stranded refugees, me clutching Chloe and comforting Allie who now took on the fear that we might be abandoned to our fate with the bees. Robert returned for us like a rescuer, "get on, quick" and we clamored onboard to safety. I was last to get on--I had one hand occupied in grip of our dog, the other attempting a crawl stroke reminiscent of my high school summer as a lifeguard. Am doing this right? It really wasn't at all as traumatic as that, it wasn't a killer bee scenario, but it was a little fun to play up the drama.

Oh, and surprisingly, Robert's tongue did not swell up like we expected. I imagined we might need medical care, but he seemed unfazed. My hero.