Lice. Little bugs. In your hair. Laying eggs. Oh holy hell, I don't want to deal with lice.
An email went out today from the Director of my son's preschool. There is a spreading outbreak of lice.
Instantly I flashed back to my elementary school days, and the head checks. The humiliation of being "caught" with a live bug in my hair and rushed off to solitary confinement in the nurses office until my mother picked me up from school. I believe many of my classmates took this opportunity to villainize me as the disgusting instigator for the Crestwood Elementary School lice outbreak of 1982.
I had long hair. I swear we kept it fairly clean. As clean as any other grade school kid who hated getting shampoo in her eyes, and screamed when her mother tried to get a comb through the knots. And yet somehow, my head became infested with bugs.
I remember the special shampoo my mother had to use on my hair. It smelled and burned. I remember her picking at each hair, looking for eggs. Eggs. I don't know if I have the stomach for that. I have a hard time imagining sorting through Zachary's unruly head of hair looking for bug larva. I have a hard time imagining him sitting still long enough for me to do so.
So please pray to the lice gods for me. Offer them sacrifices. Whatever it takes. The Kargas family does not need lice!!