Tonight I decided to file Anja’s nails instead of just cutting them so I could paint them all pretty with her new hot pink nail polish.  I sat her on the couch and she reclined across me, leaning against the arm of the couch with her legs extended.

As I was filing, I thought it would be a good opportunity to do some tidying of the toes, so I handed B the clippers and asked him to take care of her feet.

As she sat back, she said, “Oh my GOD! This is fantastic!  It’s like I’m at - at - at –”

B interjected, “A spa?”

Rather condescendingly, she responded, “Noooo, not a spa, Pabbi, one of those places where you go and they do your hair and nails and treat you real nice!”