tick, tick, TICK
This is a guest blog from Chloe.
We have been taking advantage of the nice weather (and our American friend Ian) to get some climbing in during the weekends. This means schlepping the kids over rocky trails, through rivers, up occasionally treacherous paths to our climbing spots. We have started bringing a tent with us to create a little house for Zoe in an effort to entertain her. Nothing seems to compare though to the unfettered joy of throwing rocks into water, which Zoe will happily do for hours on end. After a weekend climbing in Ombleze (made possible by Ian's mom who volunteered to watch the implings while the three of us went climbing), I noticed a strange black dot on my leg. Another mole perhaps? No, a TICK! After yelling for Max to get it off (tweezers are recommended after a quick internet search), we preserved the little guy in an empty babyfood jar with a little isopropanol.
The next weekend we explored a new climbing site, once again bringing the two little ones and a tent. That Monday, as we were getting Zoe ready, I noticed her shirt was on backwards. Since I want to avoid the disapproval of Zoe's nanny, I took her shirt off to correct this when I noticed a black dot on Zoe's otherwise blemish free back. Yes, upon closer inspection it was a tick. Calling for Max once again (the designated de-tickifier), I held Zoe down while he removed her tick. We showed Zoe the unwelcome little hitchhiker and she immediately ran to tell her Nanna and Jicha the news. While she may not have mastered complete sentences, she's very good at using keywords.
"Tick, tick, tick. Spider, spider (hands up by her face, fingers wagging). Back, hurty, daddy."
We translated for Nanna and Jicha who were appropriately impressed by the tick saga.
Zoe's tick is currently preserved next to mine in a creme brulee jar until we remember to bring home some glass vials from lab for better long-term storage. And so ends the Saga of the Tick.
