OH. MY. GOD.

The kids aren't the only ones playing with mayonnaise.

In my paranoid defense, I didn't *actually* find anything on my head. Maybe all that itching was totally psychosomatic. Still. It was really itching. And the IDEA of it, just the possibility, was totally grossing me out.

So.

Just to be, totally, you know, sure, I did the mayonnaise trick. So I have a new number 1 on my list of Top Ten Disgusting Things That Have Happened to Me Since I Became a Parent. This replaces the previous Number 1: Lena vomits on me with the force of Linda Blair on a flight from Austin to San Fransisco and I have no clean clothes to change into and must wallow in it, smelling my own stink, within the confines of a plane for hours.

Um. Actually. Now that I'm remembering the San Fransisco trip, maybe mayonnaise on my head and the unconfirmed notion of a few harmless bugs isn't so bad...