Among my least favourite aspects of parenting (right up there with diarrhea in a toddler and vomit, which probably will always be number one) is dealing with nits (head lice). They aren't really as icky in terms of absolute values of ick (although don't ever look at one under a microscope when your child has a microscope obsession - that's pretty ick) but they are just so incredibly tedious to get out. And despite the fine teeth of a nit comb, you still can't get all the eggs. So I ended up watching the football (uninspiring) because I had to do something while dealing with Sarah's hair. Luckily, Olivia seems to have escaped this time around.
OF course, while I was doing this, Alex decided to wee in the bed (he was asleep - don't get me wrong, he's not THAT naughty). Not something he does very often, but he's got a bit of a cold and probably isn't quite himself. Not a big deal, except that Geoff had let him fall asleep in OUR bed. Let's just say, he won't do that again in a hurry. At least it wasn't 3 am. He says "now all we need is for Olivia to throw up in the middle of the night" - as I said, whatever the opposite of "from your lips to God's ear" is; that's my response to that"...
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