In J’s class there’s a case of head lice, and she came home itching. I went and got some kill-the-bugs shampoo. We kept reassuring her that this was “just in case”, or, as W likes to call it, a “prophylactic measure”. Every time he said it I’d start to giggle because it sounds dirty. Am I a 12-year-old boy or what?
I’d gotten J to strip down for the treatment, but the shampoo was surprisingly inoffensive. Once I put it in her hair (it stays there for a few minutes pre-shampoo), it gave her some fabulous body. So it was funny: she was all “nakey” with wild hair, dancing and flaunting like a model. Anyway, I put something about lice in my Facebook status (because I’m shameless) and various friends have been sharing advice. And they’re just being helpful, but really? Reading the advice just makes me want to curl up into the fetal position.
And all of this grooming was going on while we were listening to the gubernatorial debate. Dude, I’m so glad that they let everybody participate. I mean, it seriously upped the entertainment value, am I right? And yet, it was sort of like the lice wash: entertaining, interesting poses, a few giggles. But deep down, it just feels dirty.
Oh, also, Fin is hiding quietly. Which, according to Google, is not a good sign. I changed the water up, but who knows. I fear a reprise of the
Ant Farm Debacle. I’ve said before that two kids and a cat pretty much takes me to my personal limit. But, truly, I’m trying.
And I just figured out (she slid it into the class newsletter, about two paragraphs after I stopped paying attention the first time) that J’s teacher is pregnant, due in April. Couldn’t she wait and have a life after J gets through this crucial first year? Ack.
But, how ’bout this cute scary Halloween craft by J? I thought that it was such a good idea to draw with white chalk on black construction paper. This is left over from a previous year at nursery school, but it was so fun that it’s in my annual decoration box. I’m feeling really nostalgic about nursery school right now. . . .