(Or maybe Itchy and Scratchy.)
(So very punny today.)
What's the most helpful phone call you might hope to receive when you're writing to deadline, pressed for time, hoping against hope that you can make use of every second from now until it's time to pick up your son from school?
Why, a phone call from the school nurse an hour early, of course. Informing you that your son has an infested head and is waiting to be picked up.
So, the deadlines and the using-seconds-efficiently and all that went on hold, naturally, to be replaced by an odd-smelling spray treatment and highly resistant-to-being-sprayed child.
And after we'd finally sprayed, massaged, soaked, rinsed, dried and were combing:
"What are you looking for?"
"Eggs. I want to make sure there aren't any eggs left in your hair."
"Eggs? Can't we leave them in? I'm like a nest!"
"No, David, we can't leave them in. I need to ki ... er, check to make sure there aren't any eggs."
"Can I see a baby one?"
I'm off now, to wash everything in the house and boil the comb. Every single itch now is making me paranoid. My husband and I agreed to check each other's heads this evening. Should make for a fun evening.