When I was in school in Montreal some decades ago, we had a
lice scare. All of a sudden, schools were discovered to have
unwanted visitors. How lice can survive in 30 below zero
weather, I'll never know, but it is a generally held
scientific belief that if we are to ever cholila
experience a nuclear holocaust, the cockroaches and lice
would survive to found a new world. Anyway, back in
Montreal, I escaped the lice scare without a scratch.
In Israel too, I never had a louse in the house even after I
had a child. Regular lice checks in gan reported him
clean and clear. It was I who discovered the first louse. It
was in 1993 and I panicked. I went out and bought one of
those chemical rinses you put on your hair and a fine lice
comb and I stood in front of the mirror on lice patrol,
being totally disgusted and freaked out about the six-legged
creature clinging to my follicles.
That was that until my son started school, and from Grade
One on, lice tended to get into our hair and like the
consolation of weirdie jokes, my lice would play tennis with
my son's lice when we cuddled. I stopped buying the
chemicals and started to accept lice searches as par for the
course in bringing up a child in this country.
Then one of my closest friends gave me a new perspective on
this Israeli phenomenon. She told me that she calls her
children's lice Thomas-and-his- family. So she'll go, "Oh
look! Here is Thomas' uncle" or "I just found Thomas' second
cousin." Matching her mock enthusiasm, I started doing the
same thing with my son.
Just the other day, my friend and I were talking on the
phone and I told her that Thomas had come to visit us
(Thomas gets around) and he had thrown an anniversary party
for his grandparents. [I guess these weekly portions
highlight the victory of lice over man, 'cause even the Jews
had them. Only they didn't bite...] There was a big to-do
and lots of friends and family came, but you know how it is
with some guests -- they never know when to leave.
King Solomon sent us to observe the animals and learn from
them. While it is true he never sent us to the primates, if
we were to observe the monkeys, we'd notice how for them,
looking for lice is a bonding ritual.
I have taken their cue and now my son leans on me and plays
with his Tetris game or reads a book while I search for
Thomas' family tree. And oddly enough, I've come to enjoy
this ritual as a relaxing way to be close to my son. It's a
good way to be affectionate with a child who's still
preadolescent. It's even kind of addictive, like a game in
which you try to find as many lice as possible and better
your score. [Ed. Hey, Rosally, how about the other way
round, with low score bonuses?] I'm always running around
and this actually forces me to sit still and spend a `lice'
time with my child. While it's true that many mothers have
many children, Boruch Hashem, and while lice multiply
exponentially, their time decreases exponentially.
Therefore, were mothers to spend 15 minutes a day with each
child combing for lice, they'd have little time for anything
else, but since you have to do it anyway, you might as well
make it a pleasant experience. [Or as her grandmother might
say, "NIT azoy shlecht."]
As with everything in life, Chazal's dictum that how you
view a situation will define the experience, applies here,
too. Discovering Thomas and his family has made me closer to
mine.
I guess I am a thoroughly integrated Israeli when it comes
to lice because I no longer consider their trying to get a-
head as something lousy. As Thomas would say, it helps me
and my son stick together.
