Lice. Twice.

When I checked Lu's head on Saturday and found lice AGAIN, I nearly cried. When I found a bug on Milo I actually did. We began the process of lice treatment all over again, only this time, I did what I should have from the start: instead of going for the most expedient, chemical (read: nuclear) option, choose the thorough, non-toxic, actually effective route. Otherwise known as Lesson 1: do whatever Mary Ellen, internet detective, diplomatically suggests you do in the first place. And this new method did work — Lice Ice is this minty, all-natural gel that coats the hair and suffocates the bugs and eggs. Milo enjoyed his menthol mohawk. Lu howled for about 6 of the 9 hours she wore the Lice Ice, offended by the smell, the stiffness and how bad her hair looked. Not that it mattered what she looked like: no one invited the people of the Louse House anywhere on Saturday.

When I washed their hair and combed it out Sunday (Milo sat patiently, as long as I gave him an M&M every 45 seconds), I was confident we'd beaten the bugs.

Until I took Milo back to school Monday. After I casually mentioned to the school director that he'd HAD lice, she marched him up to her office to inspect his head. And found a few nits. Ejected.

That's when I called the Texas Lice Squad, this group of hair hygienists who wear scrubs and magnifying masks and pick the bugs out or your money back. They checked all three of us, found nothing on me, one possible nit on Lu and a handful on Milo. "Pretty clean," they said admiringly, but treated us anyway and charged us $168. Worth every penny and then some. I don't clean my own toilets or my own teeth — why could I be trusted to get these heads clean? Lesson 2: with this and so many other tasks in my life, I should really just hire the experts.