Cooties

Some days, it's just better not to listen to your voicemail. Today, I heard a message that has left me uncomfortable ever since. THe father of some kids I babysat a few times this week left this a message that went something like this: "Dodi, I'm so embarrassed to call you. I just got a call from the school that _____ has lice and I have to bring her home. I know it's so white trash, but I wanted to let you know since they've been at your house all week." (For the record, they are very nice people and nowhere near white trash.)

Poor guy...I know he was embarrassed. And I wasn't the least bit upset. At all. Until I had this thought: Holy crap, Avery is at school today. And is supposed to bring a new friend home with her today. What if we spread lice all over her precious little preschool and give it to this new kid? How embarrassing. It's funny how, a few minutes before, I was like "Oh, this is no big deal." and now I feel like "Oh my gosh, we are so white trash! We have cooties!"

Ok, so where do we go from here? I checked Reese and Rhett and they are fine. I called Ave's school, they checked her and she's fine. But I, for one, feel like I have bugs crawling out of my underwear and under my skin. I will keep you posted, but for now, I'm going to go boil my entire body in lye, ok? Later.