The L Word

No, not lesbians. These L-words are currently camping out in Henry's hair. I WISH there were lesbians in Henry's hair. That would be so much more fun! I bet they'd keep the place really tidy, too.

I'm sure you've figured out by now that I'm talking about lice. You're smart that way.

Henry returned from sleepaway camp happy, worn out, filthy, and itchy. He mentioned that he had asked a counselor about his itchy head, and the counselor had looked at his head and saw the myriad bug bites and naturally assumed that the bites were troubling him. (Kid is festooned with bites. He is more bite than child. Their cabins were outdoors, and obviously he never used the bug repellent we packed for him. Also? It took him a week to find his shirts. His SHIRTS. He wore the same shirt for seven days. Fortunately he found the shirt-stash we had cleverly hidden in his footlocker before the Big Dance. I am glad he did not attend the Big Dance in the same filthy shirt he had been wearing all week. Actually I bet no one would have noticed, because kids are kinda dumb that way. Sorry, kids.) So the lice went unnoticed. Until he got home.

He was complaining and scritch-scratching like mad at his head, so I took a look, as parents will do when their kids are clawing at their scalps. I fervently hope that you guys never have to see the horrors that I saw there. I will be forever haunted by that sight. I'm going to go ahead and guess that he picked up the lice on his very first day there. They had clearly reproduced, and colonized, and erected statues, and then fought a few wars, and buried their dead, and then their children's children's children were told tales of the wondrous planet on which they were so lucky to live, where none of their ancestors had ever suffered from the mysterious Lotions and Combs that had, the stories claimed, felled so many of their kind in centuries hence. Because his scalp was moving. MOVING.

I may never sleep again.

We have coated his scalp in many salves and chemicals, we have been combing and picking nits off of him every single day and will continue to do so until we are satisfied it's all gone/he's in college; we washed and re-washed everything he brought home from camp in the hottest water that wouldn't actually disintegrated the fibers; we've vacuumed and sealed things in plastic and prayed to all of our gods. We even invented some! You can't have enough gods if you want to defeat lice.

I wanted to call one of the famed Lice Ladies of Brooklyn, but Scott thinks that's unnecessary. HAHAHAHAAA he has no idea. Well, he'll learn. Oh, he'll learn.(Or maybe he's right. Maybe.) (We all know I'm right, right? Of course.)

I spent an hour yesterday combing through my own conditioner-coated hair, and although I found nothing, I have to tell you, my scalp is itching like crazy. This is probably not surprising. I should add that my scalp has pretty much been itching ever since lice was rampant in his kindergarten class, two years ago. So it COULD be psychosomatic. Either that or the lice are extremely tricky. And I have been their unwitting host for lo these many years.

No need to give me any advice, as I have read/followed every bit of advice I could find on the Internet and beyond. I just wanted you to share in my horror. There. Now you have it, too. (The horror! Not the lice. I HOPE.)