Funny, isn’t it, how all kids are the same in some respects? Like how they all, without exception, negotiate with you at bedtime? Take last night:
- Gamma: Two books?
Mig: Three books. Final offer.
Gamma: But not the parasite book! Or I won’t be able to sleep!
Mig: Don’t worry, honey. I’ll read it first. Then the volcano book and then Witches by Roald Dahl. That way they’ll superimpose themselves on the parasites and you’ll have nice dreams.
Gamma: [skeptically] Well…
Mig: Just one chapter of each. Parasites first. Listen, this is what can happen if you eat food contaminated with parasite eggs. Look at this chart. That’s the life cycle. You eat the eggs on dirty food or if you don’t wash your hands. Then they hatch in your gut, and burrow through, and migrate through your liver to your lungs. Then you cough them back out, reingest them and they lay eggs in your stomach, which you pass when you poo.
Gamma: Yuck.
Mig: Okay. Volcanoes.
Gamma: Let me go wash my hands first.
The Parasite Book? As a go-to-sleep reading? You’re crueler than I ever managed. Congratulations. :)
Tomorrow I write “did you wash your hands?” on her banana.
better than writing ‘nice pinworms’ …
The book I read Gamma was from a parasite exhibit at the Vienna Museum of Natural History (great place if you bring snacks) last year that I had really, really wanted to see but missed.
I was just going to mention something about how parasites have been a theme accompanying me throughout my entire life, until a little voice in my head said, “you and the rest of the human race.”
Oh, God, pinworms. Don’t get me started.
And fleas.
And ticks.
And lice.
don’t forget scabies … and chiggers … and ringworm …