My husband has quite a sense of humor.
Last week my sister called and said her granddaughter had lice. Apparently she had come in contact with some kids at the playground. (She loves to hug.)
My mother lives with my sister, part-time and myself and husband the other part of the time. She called the night my sister had called me and said she was coming home for a few days.
Now, let me tell you upfront that my husband is a germaphobe, and any kind of ‘beasties’ really bother him, so when I told him I not only got the cross of the fingers but he told me I needed to make sure my mother didn’t have them before she came down. “I love your mom to death, Honey, but just the thought of those little critters in my head…” Needless to say, he was itching already.
I need to back up a little. John has no problem with spider he said was so big it ‘was wearing his sneakers and he heard every squeak as those legs hit the floor’, or with the little crickets that ‘are so big, when they rub their legs together they don’t just make noises, but he can hear their wetness sloshing’. However, a little louse had him sweating and doing yoga has he imagined the itch.
It has now been two weeks since we found out about the lice, and they have since been eradicated. My mother called about half an hour ago and asked if it was all right if she came home today. “I still itch, but that’s because my skin is dry. Are you sure it’s all right with John?”
He agreed it was okay, but he just came to me and told me he was going to bring his flame thrower in. (We use it burn the brush in our fields.) When I didn’t say anything, he added, “That way I can get rid of all the little beasties that may jump off her.”
I know he was kidding. He said he knows that lice don’t jump. Or was he?