On Saturday, we took the girls to the local kids-haircutting-establishment, the cleverly named Kidz Kutz, for a bangs trim. It's six bucks a piece, but one time I tried to cut Mallory's bangs myself and the results were a bit slanty so I pony up the cash and move on. Mallory loves getting a hair cut because this shop features an indoor playground, free balloons and lollipops, and the kids get to watch movies while they're getting trimmed.
Phoebe went first and was docile as a lamb. I was brushing stray bits of bang off of her while Mallory got started, and then I heard the beautician say, "Mom? I think she may have lice."
Lice. I almost burst into tears on the spot. Lice? I went over and the girl pointed out some white specks on Mallory's head. I pulled myself together enough to say, "I think that's dandruff, actually," but the girl would have none of it. "Sorry, I can't work on her today, just in case," she said. So we paid for Phoebe's trim and got our balloons and slunk away. As we loaded the kids in the car I was imagining calling the preschool and admitting that my daughter had lice. And telling our friends across the street, whose daughters Mallory had played with all weekend, that she had lice. Then Chris mentioned boiling the sheets and clothes and all the other inconveniences that apparently come along with having lice and I didn't even care about that. I was worried about the social stigma, the horrible embarrassment. I mean, I know that lots of kids get lice, it happens, it doesn't necessarily mean that you're living in filth, but there was this one kid in my elementary school who was known to have lice and everyone made horrible fun of her for years and years and I did not want Mallory to be that kid.
"Why didn't I get a haircut?" Mallory asked, and Chris said because she might have lice. "Why is there rice in my hair?" she asked. "No, lice, they're kind of like...bugs," Chris said. "Oh, bugs!" she said, not bothered in the least. We drove to the store to get a Lice Kit. ($17.49, if you're wondering.) While checking out, we saw Mallory's across-the-street friend and her dad, and I was simultaneously trying to conceal my purchase from them and to prevent Mallory from getting to close to them, just in case. Then we went to Chris's mom's house, because she's a nurse and is occasionally called to do head-checks at Mallory's preschool. She admitted that in fact she'd never seen a real case of lice, but the kit had a handy checklist of how to identify both nits and their eggs (eww!) and we quickly determined that, in fact, Mallory just has really bad dandruff.
Thank goodness. But I don't think I can ever go back to Kidz Kutz again.
Phoebe went first and was docile as a lamb. I was brushing stray bits of bang off of her while Mallory got started, and then I heard the beautician say, "Mom? I think she may have lice."
Lice. I almost burst into tears on the spot. Lice? I went over and the girl pointed out some white specks on Mallory's head. I pulled myself together enough to say, "I think that's dandruff, actually," but the girl would have none of it. "Sorry, I can't work on her today, just in case," she said. So we paid for Phoebe's trim and got our balloons and slunk away. As we loaded the kids in the car I was imagining calling the preschool and admitting that my daughter had lice. And telling our friends across the street, whose daughters Mallory had played with all weekend, that she had lice. Then Chris mentioned boiling the sheets and clothes and all the other inconveniences that apparently come along with having lice and I didn't even care about that. I was worried about the social stigma, the horrible embarrassment. I mean, I know that lots of kids get lice, it happens, it doesn't necessarily mean that you're living in filth, but there was this one kid in my elementary school who was known to have lice and everyone made horrible fun of her for years and years and I did not want Mallory to be that kid.
"Why didn't I get a haircut?" Mallory asked, and Chris said because she might have lice. "Why is there rice in my hair?" she asked. "No, lice, they're kind of like...bugs," Chris said. "Oh, bugs!" she said, not bothered in the least. We drove to the store to get a Lice Kit. ($17.49, if you're wondering.) While checking out, we saw Mallory's across-the-street friend and her dad, and I was simultaneously trying to conceal my purchase from them and to prevent Mallory from getting to close to them, just in case. Then we went to Chris's mom's house, because she's a nurse and is occasionally called to do head-checks at Mallory's preschool. She admitted that in fact she'd never seen a real case of lice, but the kit had a handy checklist of how to identify both nits and their eggs (eww!) and we quickly determined that, in fact, Mallory just has really bad dandruff.
Thank goodness. But I don't think I can ever go back to Kidz Kutz again.
Comments
Mom
My youngest who is 7 went through the lice situation this fall. I too was mortified. When my older daughter discovered it, I ran her into the doctor. I had never experienced it and didn't know for sure. Everyone told me I should have just gone to the store and bought the kit, but with our insurance we got the extra tough stuff for less. The doctor told us we caught it early. She also said it's just part of childhood. Even kids with very clean hair will get it. My poor child experienced 2 hours of combing with that tiny comb! And I washed EVERYTHING in our house. They have also invented a spray for your house for your furniture. I used two cans on everything. I took her into the school nurse completely embaressed to inform her of our experience, but I did want the other kids checked to find out who needed to be treated. I knew it had to have come from school since we recently moved here and my girls didn't go to anyone's house for play dates. To my horror the nurse informed me that they weren't requiered to perform a head check when a case was reported, but I had to fill out paperwork informing her of what treatment we performed before she could go to class!
I pray you don't go through it either, but if you do, society seems to be understanding it better, and there are ways to keep too many from knowing.
But good grief! I would think a children's beautician should be trained to know what to look for!
Mom -- I think I was in 4th grade when I had to sit beside the "girl with lice" while watching a filmstrip. Someone behind us made a comment and the girl turned to me and said, "I don't have lice anymore." I didn't know what to say. I guess it was pretty brave of her to speak up; how sad that she had to keep dealing with kids being mean to her.