Yesterday, one of the moms stopped me in the parking lot after we picked up our kids from school. Her child and my kiddo aren’t in the same class or the same grade, but they see each other after school and often chat or play for a couple of minutes while this mom and I visit. The mom waved me over to her car, and I waved back, smiling because I thought this would be a simple and fun conversation.
No, no, no … not that “L” word. The other one. The one that strikes fear into the heart of every parent who has school-aged kids. Still don’t get it? All right, I shudder to type it out loud, but, perhaps if I strike the keys ever so softly …
Here I was thinking we were nearly home free. It’s almost the end of the school year, and I haven’t had one notice come home from school regarding potential infestations of these pesky little critters. It has been such a relief from last year, which, apparently, was lice-a-palooza at my daughter’s school. I should have known better than to feel smug and lucky. I should have known to wait until we were across the finish line before patting myself on the back over my good fortune. It’s almost like I jinxed this into being or something.
It turns out this mom’s child had lice — but just the eggs, which, apparently, were empty. There weren’t any unwanted campers in her kid’s hair, but she wanted to let me know because my child and hers have contact with each other. I appreciate her consideration and kindness, even though this news rather put a crimp in an otherwise pleasant day.
As we drove away, I thought about the vagaries of life. One person gets lice for real, one person sort of gets them, another person is, thankfully, on the fringes of the entire thing. And others might just be innocent bystanders who accidentally get caught in the crossfire of this bug-eat-bug world.
But we all itch … just the same.