If the Cradle Cap fits?….

Is it just me or does cradle cap turn everybody into a Howard Hughes style OCD nutcase? The urge to pick the stuff off is almost unbearable. I know you are supposed to smear his head with olive oil like he’s a Greek salad, wait, then gently brush his hair through, but I’m sorry that simply is not going to happen!?! I’m going to brush, and rake, and pick until it’s all gone. In the process I will drive him insane with my constant pulling and tugging at the bits sitting loosely in his hair after being dislodged from his scalp, but refuse to be brushed out. It is almost as if these protesting flakes are making a last stand and have the ability to duck out of the way when a comb approaches. All this must look like a scene from a wildlife programme on primates preening their young, although I draw the line in my obsession at putting it in my mouth like apes do.

"I told you Vosene was no good!"...

The term cradle cap is getting me in a spot of bother as well. I have been getting it confused with skull cap, or Kippah, the name for the small cap worn on the back of the head by male members of the Jewish community. I have Jewish friends and when during one discussion I asked if the subject wore a cradle cap,  It brought about some bemusement as well as the embarrassment of me having to explain the confusion. Still, they may have had cradle cap? We’ll never know for sure. Baby Friday’s cradle cap seems to have all but gone now. This is probably down to time and the above mentioned olive oil treatment rather than my OCD driven, primate like cleansing rituals, and with the cradle cap’s disappearance, also goes my OCD. It is strange how one little issue can bring something like that out in you when it clearly wasn’t there before or indeed since, hang on a minute, I just need to shut the door, now I’ll open it again, no shut it again, where’s the fridge? I need to make sure all the labels are facing the right way round…..

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