Revelations at Kenko's

Anyone who's had the misfortune of dragging a toddler into Kenko's will probably sympathize, but really the truth of the matter is, the whole concept was both misconceived and extremely ill-advised in the first place and I really should have known better.

Every time I try to do one of my "Live your life to the fullest" weekends, my back ends up paying for it. It's a combination of carrying all the toddler barang barang on my back (5 bottles, big bottle of water, milk powder for 5 bottles, diapers, change of clothes, wet wipes, dry cloth, 5 die-cast metal toy cars, 1 portable DVD player, 3 CDs/ DVDs, SLR camera and extra lens) and then also carrying the toddler in front as well. Add on the toddler pulling my hair and trying to lick my ear. It probably looks to the world like a Sherpa ascending Everest while carrying a monkey and being set upon by invisible wasps.

Then in the midst of all this, I pass a Kenko's, and an irresistable force propels me inside to get some relief for my poor tired back. Through the haze of agony and then relief as I put everything (and everyone) down, it barely registers that I have just signed up for half an hour of a back massage with a very awake, very curious 3-year old. Frankly for the first 5 minutes, nothing registers except for the fact that my back doesn't hurt as much. Then after 5 minutes, I note with horror that:

1. the toddler's hands are ink stained - where did he get all that ink????!!!
2. he is now playing with the rather delicate cream-coloured day-curtains, and by "playing with" I mean "dangling from";
3. he then disappears into a private room and comes out holding some dirty ear-buds;
4. there is a foul stench coming from his diaper and I can no longer smell the lavender in the air; and
5. he has been overcome by toddler verbal diarrhoea and nothing can drown him out, not the shushing and threats from the direction of my chair, not the bottle of milk I pass to him, not the pacifier, not the baby biscuits, not even the gentle strains of spa music from the hidden speakers. It's like someone just switched on the TV in time for the news, as read by a very enthusiastic newsreader with an extremely short attention span.

"I got bitten by an ant! My mama brushed it away! My grandpa died! He just died! I just poo poo! In my diaper! Yesterday, I poo pooed into the big potty! I try to drink water, but it make me choke! Mama! Can we go to the Movie Store?"

Most people complain that massages are too short, time seems to fly when you're lying on the table, they could lie there for another hour blah blah blah. Let me tell you - that was the longest massage of my life and I couldn't wait to leave.