There is an invisible enemy, creeping, that undermines the peace of Italian families: pediculosis.
All infants, in fact, seem to be affected by this invisible parasite.
The children live in the "mishap" with solar superficial, barely scratched by the bureaucracy of school circulars and the anathemas of the teachers.
Families are destroyed by this war of nerves, and my not be free.
analyzing the positive side, I can say I learned new words, for example in the whole world there are nits, or eggs from which blossoms a brownish animal commonly called louse (a being that I, personally, I do not have ever seen in his quiet routine daily).
The first sighting - and capture and Executioner - the enemy was my wife, in a dreary evening two months ago. I put it under my nose, accompanying the exposition with a piercing cry and a principle of fainting. The night he passed was, needless to say, virtually sleepless fires between cleaners and pest control capillaries. Since then, that evening, everything changed.
First, we rely on the noble art of pharmacy, applied to the skin of the poor child - my daughter, damn - the best variety in the world for the treatment of head lice. Two treatments per day ("But the information is written once every two days", I protest. "Sconfiggiamoli definitely! You do not understand the drama of the situation," he says piqued my wife).
48 hours later, the blow: the nits have reappeared. After a medical examination of a brain pool (composed of myself, my wife, a distant aunt in Sicily, a sorceress in Romagna to heresy and hardware) fail to understand that this is old or dried nits, that do not contain the enemy parasite. But to my wife this partial victory is not enough: it wants to win the final battle, whatever the cost.
So we cling to ancestral rites handed down verbally by ancient ancestors: washing with vinegar, combed with magic ointments, emulsions with rare herbs, the collection of which must necessarily take place in the nights of the waning moon.
me soon to the humblest tasks (collection of herbs at night, looking across the mysterious land of oil, buy pallets of vinegar in the supermarket of the area), just to put an end to this disgrace. At the end of the louse is defeated. But evidently the harem around me that is not enough. We proceed, then, as a last resort , shortening of the crown of the baby - which is, Always my daughter, damn -. Following a short course to the accompaniment of the child, after which I will set a delivery I can not compromise: absolute silence. The louse is an indelible stain on the record of the family tree of the family toilet. Concentrated in agony, take my daughter to take the school van. The mother of another child is already at the bus stop with a bag full of glass recycling (bottles of vinegar? Inners oil?).
Note the new hairstyle and my daughter asks me to do mischievous: "Did you cut your hair?". Fresh course for accompanying retort: \u200b\u200b"Short hair is more practical with the summer. " By the way the day is definitely winter temperatures many degrees below the seasonal average: in fact, one of the coldest autumns of human history. She smiles, sardonic. I understand that he understood. Here comes the van and she walks away, leaving a trail of pungent vinegar.
few days ago was his daughter to have her hair trimmed considerably. It's my revenge, "Even for her is a matter of convenience?". Her back, as if he read the script of a film: "But no, it's the new look of Patty."
a battle is still long. Loooong long ...
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