one of the many reasons I will never raise children in manhattan

I’m sitting at a nail salon on the Upper East Side in NYC ($50 mani/pedi btw.  Ridiculous).  There’s a mom in her forties sitting next to at the pedi station.  She’s yelling across the room to her six year old daughter who is receiving a massage.  Because six year olds are stressed, you know.  The mother tells me to look over, saying that, at six, she had never even heard of a massage.  I laugh - you know, because she sees who ridiculous this is as well, or so I thought.  I said something about how my mom wouldn’t have allowed nail polish in the house (mess!)  Mom goes, “ahhhhh, but it’s all part of the New York City lifestyle.”

After I vomited, she tells me about the woes of having to bring her daughter with her for her weekly mani/pedi/massage appointment.  Gross.  Later, she’s yelling “precious baby, don’t smudge your nails!  Oh goodness!”  Remember, she’s six.  Later she’s advising the child to start a weekly blog (six) about the different nail polish colors she’s tried.

It’s all very magical until I’m interrupted by “YOU PAY NOW” and I scrounge around in my purse with wet hands for an outrageous sum of money.  Have I mentioned that I hate the city.  Not that the interpersonal skills at nail salons are any better in the burbs.

Anyway.  As I’m leaving, I hear the mom telling the manicurist that her daughter’s prink finger is smudged and it should be fixed.  Immediately.  She has alot of errands to run, after all.  Because it’s important that your nails are pristine when you’re playing in the sandbox.