I guess I’ll talk about… Yes, a bug that stings next when I was around five or six years old, I think it was five. I was staying over at my grandma’s house. And when I was playing on the little plastic slide we had. I accidentally hit a bee with my hand and because I was just playing around with my brother and it bit me and I was trying very hard not to cry because I wanted to be tough as a kid and my grandma and mom were comforting me and trying to make me feel better, as they cleaned the sting. And my mom, trying to reassure me said that bees basically died after they stung a person. So that bee was going to be dead after it stung me. I think she said this to make me feel better, but I just felt so, so guilty because I knew it had it had been my fault that the bee stung me cuz I was just waving my hands around very wildly. And after that, I was just hyper aware of bees. Anytime in first or second or even third grade classmates would shout because there was a bee in the room and everyone would freak out, I would just like yell at everyone to sit down and stay still so it wouldn’t sting you cuz I was just so concerned about other bees dying because me and other dumb kids were getting in their way. And I think it’s silly because now I do know, like a lot about the Save the Bees movement, and I still tell people to just, like, calm down around bees and that they won’t hurt them. And I think it’s silly how just getting stung by one bee in—when I was five years old, still affects my behavior today, I guess.