One day last summer, I lifted up my daughter’s ball cap to adjust the fit when I spotted something crawling on top of her head. A very little something. A few very little somethings.
LICE.
It wasn’t long before I was peeling out of the driveway for a lice removal center (yes, that’s a thing), kids in the back with ball caps jammed over their infested heads.
Upon arrival, we were ushered inside a small room with a dentist-type chair facing a TV (hello, Clockwork Orange) and made to watch a 10-minute informational video about lice. Unfortunately, in covering the different kinds of lice, the narrator mentioned how a rare body lice could, at one time in history, kill you. My son, 4 at the time, turned to me with wide eyes. “I could die from this?”
Needless to say, the 9-year-old went first. Attacking my daughter’s hair with gusto, the Lice Lady proudly showed me the numerous nits (aka lice eggs) that she combed out and wiped onto her stack of Kleenex. I nodded dumbly. Yup, lice.
And then the 4-year-old went, having been thoroughly reassured that he was not, in fact, dying from the bugs on his head. Once they were both done and handed ice cream cups for their trouble, the Lice Lady turned to me, wielding her many-toothed comb like a dentist drill. “Your turn, Mom.”
Listen. I’m just like you. I’m educated. And health-conscious. And generally pretty clean.
But yes, I had lice, too.
I had heard about lice since I was a kid, I knew it was a thing, but I never thought it would happen to my family — until there was a house party on my head. And now I can tell you: Lice shame is real. Especially for kids, who care way too much about what their friends think. (Note that I’m posting this anonymously, not for my sake, but for my third-grade daughter’s.)
Turns out it had gone on long enough to reach the whole family. Even my husband had a few, which, oddly, earned him some cred from the Lice Ladies. They said the dads only get it if they’re short (their heads are closer to their kids’ heads) or affectionate and cuddly with their kids. My husband is pretty tall, so I guess in some perverse way, getting lice means he’s a good dad?
Anyway, we all suffered through the embarrassment, not to mention the scalp-scraping removal, and we learned how to get rid of lice going forward. Actually, I’ve now learned more about lice than I EVER wanted to know. To boil it down:
1. If your family gets lice, tell the people who need to know.
The kids’ school nurse and teacher. Close friends and family, especially those who have had extended contact with your kids. Potentially embarrassing, yes, but you’ll appreciate it when someone reveals their infestation so you can give your kids a good check. Remember, no shame.
2. Lice can’t hurt you.
They can itch like heck, if left alone long enough, but they do not carry diseases or otherwise cause harm.
3. Head lice do not fly or jump; they only crawl.
So the most common way to get lice, by far, is head-to-head contact with another person.
4. Lice can’t live for more than a day or so off the human head.
Which means you don’t need to burn all your kids’ stuffed animals, throw out the sofa, or even shave the cat. Keep cool, lady.
5. If you discover an infestation, it’s wise to start with a professional removal.
This will not only chase off every last nit, it’ll also teach you what you’re looking for. (I mean, these guys are tiny!) In the future, you can do checks yourself with nothing more than a nit comb, a box of Kleenex, and a boatload of conditioner.
I’m happy to report that my family is lice-free now. Of course, that still means frequent checks. And a good dose of humility. Because now we know that we’re not too good for lice after all.
