It comes to us all, headlice. We had our first go a few weeks ago. We tried all the things you are told to such as a comb, chemicals, washing and not washing bed linen but we’ve never quite managed to eradicate them. This weekend they are back again, which explains the weird itchiness on my next in the last few days. I think it’s an allergic reaction to louse poo. Lovely. Just went to Boots and requested the nuclear option. The nice pharmcist sold me a bottle of something that kills all known life forms but is safe for breastfeeding mums. We have to leave it on over night and anyone left alive comes down to breakfast. Might be us, might be the lice. We just don’t know.
This leaves me the dilemma of whether to tell the nice mum who brought her toddler round last Monday. He and Rose spent about half an hour rolling round under a quilt with their head pressed together, creating a kind of headlouse super-highway. Of course it’s possible that he gave Rose some of his lice rather than the other way around. That’s what I choose to believe unless forensic evidence can prove otherwise.
Sylvia had her first set of jabs on Thursday. She didn’t have any bad reaction which is good, she barely woke up while being jabbed, and when she did open her eyes had a smile for the nurse. Rose was there with us, and she rushed over to help press the cotton wool on the injection site. She keeps mentioning the ‘prasters’ (plasters) on Sylvia’s legs so she must have been quite concerned about what was happening to her baby sister.
On our trip to the chemist we stopped to watch a small Salvation Army band. After they played Away in a manger they all put down their instruments and sang, no harmonies or anything, and it was terribly moving. One of the musicians was this old guy who kept calling Rose a ‘little dolly’, which is the second time one of my children has been called a doll. The other time was in the life at Sainsbury’s – this eccentric looking oldish woman asked if Sylvia was real (she was in a sling) – I didn’t understand what she meant, so she said she sells those real life baby dolls that strange women buy to look after when their real children have left home. I got a bit angry and said I hated dolls which isn’t totally true but better then poking her in the eye which I was very tempted to do.