The 5 Stages Of Grief When Your Kid Has Lice
Just this week I took my daughter to get her haircut after school. Sitting in a chair shaped like a taxi cab, the stylist gingerly dug at her scalp with the edge of her comb. “Mom, do you see this?” she asked me, pointing. “Look.”
“Huh? What?” I peered down at my kid’s head. Surely those round white specks that look exactly like lice eggs must be dandruff, right?
“Are you sure it’s not dandruff?” I asked the stylist.
She nodded yes.
“BUT ARE YOU SURE?!?!” I screamed.
“BUT BUT BUT BUT BUT!!!!” I howled, falling to me knees in a pile of hair. “THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE, I BATH MY KIDS EVERY NIGHT!”
(This is a lie. Sometimes we skip a day because we are lazy/tired/want to throw them in bed ASAP so we can hurry the eff up and watch Orphan Black. Also lice has nothing to do with bathing. We all know this, and yet we still ask.)
The stylist handed me $70 worth of lice shampoo and a metal comb and shoved me out the door.
“How did this happen?!” I muttered furiously as I yanked the tiny comb through my daughter’s tangled, egg-filled hair.
“How did this happen?!” I muttered furiously as I ripped apart every bed, couch and chair within a ten mile radius of my house, tossing all the things into the washing machine.
“How did this happen?!” I muttered furiously as I disinfected hairbrushes, car seats, and my own head.