I really wanted to talk about something other than our outbreak of lice. I really did. Like how we had a memorable day rollerblading and picnicking in Washington Park. How Haddie has finally returned to preschool. How the weather has been glorious and we have been playing outside every day. How sweet Bode insisted we sing “I love to see the temple” during our entire hike yesterday.
But recent developments prohibit me from doing this.
It started when my dear friend Helga (name has been changed to protect the innocent) called me prior to picking Hadley up for preschool.
Me: It is always bad news when you call at 7:30 a.m.
Hegla: I hate you.
Helga then proceeded to tell me she found a delightful little black bug that morning in her daughter’s hair. A little black bug that had taken more than a week to incubate in Alex’s hair. And where there is one little black bug, there are inevitably many more. I was tempted to tell her to keep her leper colony to herself but it was Thursday and I was feeling particularly generous. I offered to bring her some Cetaphil (our miracle cure) to her house after I dropped my non-leprous daughter off at preschool.
Well, I introduced her to “Phil.”
Which, quite coincidentally, is her husband’s name.
Phil is, quite conveniently, in a third-world country, likely spreading the disease to other Innocents. And so good friend that I am, I donned my pink shower cap and scrubbed Helga’s hair with Cetaphil.
“Amber, you really are a great friend for doing this.”
“A great enough friend to give it to you in the first place.”
Because friends don’t give friends lice.
We went about our lice bonding ritual until a rather revealing document testified what they really think of me.
So much for gratitude.
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 