Dining with Squirrels

Another parenting milestone reached here at the Swedberg household:  lice!

Ben and Lucy had been to a sleepover this weekend and we heard on Tuesday that they might have taken some little buggy friends home with them.  I am fascinated by how I take news like that.  My mother once said I would make a good drill sergeant and I think she’s right.  I can feel the daily carapace of fog in which I usually live dropping away and I am all action.  I just love a checklist.  Within 5 minutes of that phone call, I had stripped all the beds and thrown all the towels in the laundry.  By the end of the day, I had vacuumed all our furniture and gone over each child’s head with the devotion of an orangutan.  This may be the only instance in Ben and Lucy’s life where their superfine hair is an advantage.  Lucy went first and I found nothing.  Ben went next and just as I was pulling the comb through for what I thought was the final time, jackpot!  A louse, writhing on the comb, deprived of its cozy bed and breakfast.  Shuddering, I found one more and sent Ben and Lucy  off to bed to sleep in possibly the cleanest beds they’ve ever slept in.

Karl and I checked our own heads as well and I may have a bald patch or two.  My hair might be considered by some a pelt.  A real louse Ritz.  But we were both clear.  I did have lice once, in college if you can believe it.  No idea how I got it and no idea how all 3 of my roommates were spared.  I remember shampooing in this tarry black shampoo that may account for aforementioned daily fog and not thinking much more about it.

This was only possible because there was no internet at the time.  If you Google “lice,”  there are 8,300,000 English entries.  If you type “lice” into the YouTube search bar, there are over 4,000 videos about lice, including one that had me mesmerized of a louse crawling on a cotton ball.  It went on for 5 minutes and I watched the whole thing.  My point is, you could really get crazy.   The daily nitpicking is a lousy — I had to — way to spend an hour and can leave you feeling itchier than when you began.   Don’t you feel a little buggy just reading this?   I took this opportunity to teach the kids the word psychosomatic.  And I was delighted when Ben said at dinner a few nights ago:  “We need a head med!  Or some lice advice!”  Lice word play!!  I am so proud.

We’re four days into what I hear is supposed to be a 10-day experience.  To facilitate my children’s tolerance, I’m paying $2 per nitpicking session and you can keep your judgements to yourself.  I think I’m getting a great deal.  In fact, I probably should have been paying Ben to shampoo his hair all along.  He’s quite bribable.  I thought this might bring about the Great Haircutting, but I think his shoulder-length tresses will survive, especially since we’ve found no lice or nits since the first inspection.   They watch tv while I’m inspecting each follicle and they’ve got gorgeous, well-brushed hair for the longest stretch of time ever.  I may have to start tugging on his hair a bit more by Day 10 or he’ll be asking to share hairbrushes  with his friends.  He’s got his sights set on a handheld video game and he’s got to pay for it himself.