Sterilizing my daughter's new Mam glow in the dark pacifier at my parent's house, my dad reminds me that he and my mother used to put honey on my paci. "Mama, Daddy I neeeed honey." That was my tune as a demanding toddler-epicure. I imagined the tons of honey my little body consumed. Oh the horror! I would never dream of doing that to my little girl. (FTM)
Honey was my second word after dada. The smell and the taste of it as a little slice of heaven, or perhaps proof of heaven. Think about it, six-legged creatures with stingers create honey from raw flower nectar. I don't keep bees. The thought of grabbing a honeycomb with 50 to 100 bees swarming all around me is definitely the stuff of nightmares. (Perhaps I have seen Candyman one too many times.) I'll leave bee keeping to the pros or the unafraid bee enthusiasts, such as dear Aunt Seglinde.
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