One of my most vivid childhood memories is when I got stung by a bee. I was four years old, playing with a friend on the veranda, when a bee landed suddenly on the palm of my hand.
“Don’t make a fist, or the bee will sting you,” my friend warned. I considered that for a moment before I promptly closed my hand, simultaneously squishing the bee and stinging myself.
I knew if I made a fist that I’d get hurt, yet I did it anyway. And three-year-old Harry knew that if he stuck his finger in his baby brother’s mouth he’d get bitten, yet he did it anyway…again.
I love the way Charlie looks at the camera and laughs after letting go of his brother’s finger…he knows what’s going on.
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