A Day at the Spa: Now Without Vibrators
Have you ever wondered what a day spa staffed and operated entirely by first-graders would be like? You haven't, have you? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway.
Anna's class set up an hour-long spa experience for their mothers today. Their teacher was very proud, and rightly so: the kids planned and organized everything themselves, made lists of needed supplies, and pilfered a few small items from home. "If you've noticed a few of your things missing here and there," laughed the teacher, gesturing at the tables, "this is why! Don't worry, you'll get them back."
It's probably worth noting here that there was, indeed, a vibrating massage tool among the secretly borrowed items, but no, it wasn't that kind. You sort of have to wonder, though. That could have been a bit awkward, you think?
The kids set up stations at each classroom table: a chair massage station, a nail salon, a gift shop with bookmarks, pictures, and paper flowers the kids had made, a day care in the middle of the reading rug for the toddlers who accompanied a few of the moms, and best of all (because this one was Anna's), the Blue Table Restaurant, which served fruit salad, carrot sticks with your choice of salad dressing, and chocolate croissants that Anna had made herself, plus lemonade and water.
Most good day spas offer wine, but that would probably be asking a little much.
Most good day spas also don't offer quite the type of manicure I got at the nail salon, where I sacrificed a fresh Beverly Hills to allow one of Anna's classmates to lacquer all my fingertips, from the knuckle up, in powder pink. That's motherhood for you.
The kids were great, but after the first half-hour they had about reached their limit - bouncing around the room from station to station, jabbering excitedly, and scrounging for food, while one of the masseuses began chasing the waitress around the room with the aforementioned vibrating massage tool. The staff at most reputable day spas generally do not squeal and giggle quite so much.
As things drew to a close, the clever teacher suggested that, so late in the school day, the departing mothers might as well just take their energetic little ones home with them. I waited while Anna washed out the lemonade pitcher and swept up all the crumbs from the reading rug. Do you know, she never does this at home. I wonder if I could get her teacher to come live with us? There's not room, but that's okay. I'll just spend all my time at the spa.