As a public school child in the 70’s, my Valentine’s Day often ended in tears. I remember digging into my optimistically large brown paper bag in first grade to find only three envelopes, even though my mother had insisted I fill out mass-produced cards for every child in my class. “No one likes me!” I […]
For the last two months, we have been battling the plague of lice. First Ella. Then Zoe. Then Ella and Zoe. Then Zoe again. Now Ella. We’ve tried the Lice Lady‘s Pantene method and the Cetaphil Method. We’ve used the gucci of nit combs, the LiceMeister, and we’ve bagged and laundered and frozen and heated everything that has come within three feet of their heads. Several times. Every time I think we’ve finally got it licked, someone starts scratching again. Today, against my better judgement, we treated them both with Nix. I plan to subject the girls to the nit comb every other night this winter vacation, and re-poison them again in ten days. My girls have fine, tangly hair that is hard to comb out with an afro pick, so working my way through each hair with a comb whose tines are apparently glued shut with crazyglue is, in a word, maddening. And boy have I gotten mad.