Sometimes I think I could be a more successful blogger if only I presented my life as more aspirational. I could get Bren to grow his beard just an extra few inches so it was officially ‘hipster long,’ and I’d stop going on and on about all my depression/anxiety stuff.

But I can’t help myself, you know? I have an incurable compulsion to tell the ugly truth. And I can only suppose this is the reason why I am telling you that we spent the first day of school holidays combing nits out of our children’s hair. AND OUR OWN.

Wait! Don’t leave!

Look at this mason jar floral arrangement! I did it!

Remember that one time I went out and didn’t look completely hideous?

Please! I have cute kids!

This has never happened before. Seven years, three kids, NO NITS.

Until now.

I confess, I wasn’t ready. But how can you ever prepare to be OUT IN PUBLIC and then notice something MOVING IN YOUR SON’S HAIR and then when you sweep aside some strands to look more closely at his scalp you see that his beautiful ginger mane is TEEMING WITH TINY CRAWLING THINGS?

My first instinct was to shave our heads and burn everything we own. Just torch the lot and start again.

What is it about an infestation of tiny, wingless parasites that fills me with such deep shame and self-loathing? Why do I feel like we’re a family of mountain folk with six teeth between the 5 of us? Yes, some of us are missing teeth but only because some of us are seven and that’s what’s supposed to happen when you’re seven.

So what do you do when you discover your child is a hillbilly? You immediately terminate previous plans, buy conditioner and nit combs and hightail it home, scratching all the way.

I can’t believe I missed it. If I was DOCS, I would take my kids away. How the fuck did I miss it?

My only advice is to brush your kids’ hair regularly. My boys both have long hair and I never brush it because brushing hair makes it neat and pretty which is the opposite of what long boy hair should be. Ironically, I did brush their hair last Sunday and it was so traumatic for everyone that I wrote a Facebook status about it. But I didn’t see any bugs. Or eggs. It was only upsetting because of the bloodcurdling screams. Apart from that, totally normal bath time.

But as it turned out, nothing was normal.

Nits are terrible, awful things and they robbed us of a lovely Saturday. On the up side, the children had the cleanest, most silky soft hair once we got done with the laborious treatments. But so paranoid am I, I combed their hair again yesterday and I’ll be doing it again tonight.

And that’s about all I want to tell you about nits.

If you would like to tell me something about nits, like for instance, how your kids have had them, too, and you’re not hillbillies at all and neither are we, then that would be peachy keen.