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Nit picking

I’ve decided to skip right from the hoof to the head, not leaving out the middle merely postponing it!

I’ve got quite a bit on today, from effective communication in the morning to communicating effectively to more students after tea (commonly called that north of the M25, in the softer south you’ll call it dinner). What is going to go in today after my efforts is as yet unknown. I am actually very preoccupied with what is going to come out after my efforts in a moment. After my hairwash.

You see, nits are endemic in primary schools worldwide I believe. Although I have never had them in childhood, I have since caught them (do you catch them, I think not) a couple of times from my own dear brood and once, the first time, from children I was babysitting.

There is no bigger ugh in the world in my book. Ok, just so you have things crawling round in your hair making free with the facilities, it does not render you a bad person for all time. So why does it feel that way?

An infestation is so traumatic that the mention of the nearly but not quite microscopic blighters is enough to give the itch. If I so much as scratch my head once these days, I go onto an immediate amber alert. I question the children, I look at their heads BUT and this is the killer – I do not believe what I see. If they are found, all well and good, but if not I am not convinced. I keep looking in disbelief. I have to stop myself from cutting all of our hair off immediately with sheep shears. I become distracted to the point of madness. So I must go and check (again) that I still don’t have nits.

Damn! No nits?

Damn! No nits?

Tomorrow, I hope to return to the “joyful event versus three mishaps” theme. If I neglect it for ephemera who knows where I will end up. Thanks ever so to my lurkers those views have shot up (double figures – woo hoo)! Still waiting on the first 0.1 percenter though šŸ™‚