Boys Will Be Boys

We've had a bit of a problem with wasps in the backyard. There was a nest as big as a basketball hanging from the garage overhang. Over the past few weeks I worried as it grew in size and lovingly reminded my dear husband the we (he) needed to take care of that before someone got stung. Well, one day last week, our son Sam was jumping on the trampoline and got stung. Perry felt so bad and went to the hardware store bright and early the next morning. The resident wasp expert talked him out of spraying because that same evening we would be hosting the weekly football team dinner. Apparently, spraying toxins at their nest causes wasps to become cranky.

That night was rainy, so we used the basement and garage for the dinner. It was a success because no one got stung. The behemoth in the backyard was the subject of conversation for the dads, and as the evening went on, these overgrown boys brainstormed many creative ways to destroy the nest. You know what little boys do when they have a large stick in their hands, right? Well, you can imagine what one grown man did with a golf-ball-retriever-pole. After poking a hole in the nest, he barreled around the corner of the garage without getting stung. This only encouraged the rest of the group.

Another dad threw a football at it, and got stung. Later, after more strategic planning, the "offense" march back to the yard with my husband as the official quarterback. A few seconds later, there were cheers as the pass was complete and the nest was hit squarely, breaking it and releasing hundreds of angry wasps. The guys ran for all corners of the neighborhood before breathlessly coming back to declare the mission a success.

A few days later, with the help of a large can of poison spray and some colder temperatures, the wasps appear to be nearly gone. Sam can go back to the trampoline and the dogs won't be afraid to go outside anymore.