For the first ten years of my life, my parents, my sister and I rented the top floor of a two-family house in South Hackensack, NJ. Then my father moved to Long Island to start his own company. A year later, when he was confident the business would be a success, we joined him. I remember watching my parents bust their asses during those first few years of the business. My sister and I spent many summers rolling boxes down the conveyor belt in the warehouse and playing “secretary” in the front office. On my first day of 6th grade, Mrs. Kearns asked me what I did all summer. I said, “I sold toilet paper.”
Now I’m watching some good friends go through a similar experience as they start their own lice removal clinic here in Miami. Heather and JJ have been talking nonstop about lice. (I know. I’m itching, too.) Every day they’re yapping away about eggs and bugs and combs and treatments and science. They’ve been designing the salon, training the staff and perfecting the experience at Lice Clinics of America. For months, all their daughter, Shay, has heard around the dinner table is “lice this” and “lice that” and “lice, lice, lice.”
So it didn’t surprise me (but it did make me laugh) when I overheard Shay playing Frozen at my house with Annie Bea. Shay was playing the role of Anna. Annie Bea was playing the role of Elsa.
Elsa: Hi Anna! I’m having a party at the Dream House. Can you come?
Anna: I can’t. I have lice.
Elsa: You have what?
Anna: I have lice. It’s little bugs that stick in your hair.
Elsa: Ew! Brush them out. I’m going to tell Ken you have lice.
Anna: No, don’t! I’m going to Lice Clinics of America for the all-natural treatment. Then I can come over to your Dream House. Ok?
Elsa: Ok, cool. Bye!
Forget the clinic. I think my friends should pitch Lice Barbie to Mattel. She could come with a fine-toothed comb and little plastic garbage bags to put all of her pillows and hair brushes in. So unique. None of the other toy companies are doing it.