I was really hoping that they would be good - so convenient to just walk down to the end of the road rather than fussing over bus timetables or car parking or drop-offs etc.
So, I was booked in this morning for a pre-Christmas underarm and bikini line wax. Aidan decided that he wanted to come with me - why not I thought. And thus was Aidan admitted to the inner sanctum of womanhood, a place where few owning Y chromosomes have gone before. He brought his pocket-sized whoopee cushion along too (something no five-year-old boy should be without).
He was quite interested in what was happening (even though he couldn't see much). I took care to tell the beautician that Aidan had brought this toy (because farts during bikini-line waxes are so not the correct etiquette). And yes, regular farty noises were made. But I assure you, it WASN'T ME.
And that was that. All over in fifteen minutes, a good job done and a small discount on the regular price. I had to say whoopee! to that.
(Of course that wasn't the end of the story. Aidan announced during our early Christmas dinner with the in-laws that Mummy went to the beauty shop and got her hair SHAVED OFF HER SKIN under her arms and HERE BY HER GIRL BITS. I really think my BIL wished he had put his fingers in his ears at that point! At least it's the holidays, otherwise it may have been shared with the class for Special News).