Yesterday morning I went in to wake Asher, and in doing so ran my hand over his head. What the heck? There was a crusty bump at the nape of his neck. I immediately investigated.
Four ticks, in a cluster, were latched on to my little boy. One tick had a full belly already.
Though ticks don’t really bother me — I’ve plucked many a tick from horses and other critters in my day, and I would have taken some level of primal satisfaction in extracting these from our son — I called my strong, manly husband inside to survey the situation. Sure, I could’ve handled it, but the four ticks seemed like such an anomaly that I wanted another adult to see it. Plus, I happen to believe that it’s good for husbands to think their wives need them!
Beau came striding in to bravely rescue his helpless little lady and his little boy. We deposited all four ticks in a Zip-loc baggie — which is still on my kitchen counter. Both Asher and the ticks are under surveillance just to make sure everything is normal.
The days are warm, the grass is growing, the kids are out… and it’s time to institute the nightly tick-check that my own mom taught me when I was little: hair, underarms, backs of knees, groin, belly button.
© Tami Blake
