Hostess with the mostess

I am fascinated by parasites.  I love them in a clinical way.  I appreciate their numerous and varied methods of survival.  I am in awe of the complexity of their reproductive and life cycles and how closely these are entwined with the life of their hosts.  They illustrate evolution so clearly and grossly all at the same time.

I do not, however, want them on my person.  Or in it.  100x magnified in a textbook photo or online...just fine with that.  I can even handle the jar of aged, yellow formaldehyde and the 73.5 foot tapeworm floating around in it.  

I do have trouble with ticks, though.  Especially the one I found on myself yesterday.  Oh, and the three that Big C flicked around the house today.  Yes, you heard me right.  He found three ticks crawling on himself today.  The first two he picked up and dropped somewhere in his room.  The third is in my living room somewhere.  And how does the smooth, experienced, intelligent mother handle this?  Read on.

After explaining how tossing a tick in the carpet does not kill it I said:  So, you can sleep alone on your floor tonight.  See, you will be the bait.  The ticks will find you in your sleep and then I can pick them off and kill them properly in the morning.  [Here the child displays his fear by showing me his teeth through a grimace.]  So now you know I how I will feel every moment in this house until those ticks turn up!  

And then I bathed him and sent him to bed.  The little cherub is tenderly sleeping on the top bunk.  Me?  I am twitching like I have the DT's.  Which reminds me...