"Mum, what's this?" Moo asked.
I'd just returned home from the supermarket and was unloading the groceries onto the bench top. Distracted by the decision about whether to put the canned tomatoes on the second or third pantry shelf (it's an legitimate organizational dilemma folks!), I quickly did a mental stocktake (nope, no 'special toiletries' purchased today) and glanced over. She was holding the new razor I'd just bought.
"Well, that's a razor sweetie."
"But it's pink. I don't think Dad will like it much."
"Oh it's not for Dad, it's for me."
Moo looked at me incredulously, like I'd just told her cows were indeed neon green and spurt chocolate milk from their eyeballs.
"But you don't have a beard!"
I giggled inwardly. If only she knew what's in store for her in a few years, hair-removal-wise.
"No, but I have hair in other places." Her eyes widened. "Like my legs." (See, I kept it clean - no need to traumatize her just yet).
"You've got hair on your LEGS?!!"
"Well not all the time. I don't like it much so I shave it off, like Daddy trims his beard."
"Ewwwwww!"
Oh angel, if only you knew the real reason Mummy wears jeans so much in winter...
1 comments:
Oh there's nothing like learning early. My grand daughter, now 15, has been going to the salon with my daughter since she could sit up by herself. She has grown up knowing about the waxing, the haircuts and colouring, the manicures. She even gets them herself now. She has to pay for it from her own pocket money though, so the manicures and foils aren't a regular thing.
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