Ellie was invited to “bring a friend” day at a cheerleading practice and I wanted to do something meaningful with Hanna that could bond the two of us for life. What better way to bond than with actual bonding cream and cuticle softener?

I took Hanna to the nail salon because she has been working at not biting her nails. I remember how difficult it was for me to stop biting my nails as a kid and thought it would be a nice reward for her to highlight her progress.

After a quick examination, the woman assigned to Hanna’s case suggested there was no real manicure that could fix whatever Hanna had going on but she would gladly just paint the nine or so nubs she could find.

I told Hanna to select a colour, or colours and we would get started.

 “I’ll just take whatever’s cheapest.”

Um, what?

So now this lovely mother-daughter outing has a hint of “I’ll get you my pretty if you spend all of my money” which I can assure you was never my intent nor was price ever mentioned. In fact the conversation en route was positively delightful.

We talked about things that were on Hanna’s mind.

“Mommy, you know those ancient times pictures of you and your brothers at Grandma’s house?”

Ah yes, the ones done in black and white.

She discussed how nice it would be if when Greg and I die and after she has claimed the “big” ring as she is the oldest and has therefore called dibs on the “big” ring leaving her sisters with my Band-Aid collection and pictures of me done in ancient times, “Wouldn’t it be nice if when we die, our alien bodies go up to God-land and we eat cotton candy all day in the clouds?”

Yes it would honey. Yes it would.

Our manicures began and Hanna immediately tuned into the several t.v. screens overhead and started watching some crime show on in the background. The dialogue was quite vulgar hence the “viewer discretion is advised” notice. It doesn’t take a genius to know there should be no “viewer discretion” programming of any kind being showcased during the hours of 12—3pm at a nail salon next to the movie theatre at the local mall. I am using my discretion in not painting my fingers a bright yellow but I have no control over the t.v. remote.

“That bitch will burn in hell!”

Bitch was typed in bold letters across the bottom of the screen so those who were unable to hear could read the closed captioning.

Hanna continuously whispered, then giggled, then whispered some more every time the actors swore.

Viewer discretion Hanna, viewer discretion.

There was a lovely Armenian woman two seats down very interested in talking to me about her day, her potential interest in becoming an Accountant, the pros and cons of leasing vs. purchasing her vehicle outright. After telling her some of my deepest and darkest secrets, I told her that my daughter and I had come out today because my daughter is trying to stop biting her nails. She thought the 20 year old on the other side of me was my daughter.  She looked at the young woman and then at me. “Wow, you must have had her young. You could totally pass for mid-thirties”

So, exactly my age then swell.

Did I say lovely woman? I meant bitch.

I guess on a positive note, Hanna noticed the girl sprayed something on her nails labelled “alcohol” and has refused to put her nails in her mouth because that would be illegal.