I SWEAR to God, if I get another head lice alert from the school I am going to lose it.
We seem to get the same email every week — ‘‘we have reported cases of nits/head lice being present in some of our students’’.
It’s like Groundhog Day but I can’t change the outcome.
The disgusting bugs must camp out at school and decide who they’re going to pick on the next day.
And Maya’s hair seems to be pretty attractive to these little critters because she’s managed to catch them at least three or four times this year.
I guess it could be because she is a very affectionate child.
She’s a hugger.
I mean, I spend half my day hugging her.
She has to be bear hugged when she wakes up, before breakfast and then, of course, to thank me for the breakfast I just cooked.
A hug is essential before she puts on her school uniform and after breathing on me to show she has, in fact, brushed her teeth.
And she can’t go to school without the world’s longest hug, no matter how late I am for work.
Then there’s hugs at school pick up, after her bath and before bed.
She also hugs me if I’m sad, angry or hurt — so a lot.
You can imagine then what she’s like with her little friends at school.
Making it easy for those nasty nits to jump across to her head and set up camp.
Getting rid of them is a nightmare.
You smother their hair in this stinking ointment and let them sit in the stench for 15-20 minutes.
Nit treatment has ruined the smell of tea tree oil for me forever.
Then after washing it out and conditioning the hair, you spend an eternity combing through every follicle on their head for signs of eggs or hungry lice.
All the while listening to your child screaming bloody murder because the comb feels like ‘‘a hot knife cutting open my skull’’.
Then, after you think you’ve got them all, you spray even more tea tree oil through their hair hoping it will work as some kind of anti-nit forcefield.
More like an anti-human forcefield.
This is followed by endless cycles of washing (as you have to sanitise every single pillowcase, sheet and doona cover in the house) on the hottest cycle possible.
A week later, you do it all again.
And when you’re 100 per cent certain you’ve destroyed the little suckers, guess what pops up in the inbox again?
You. Bloody. Guessed. It.
That electric shaver is looking pretty good right about now.