It started with a simple idea: "Let’s give Mummy a relaxing spa morning," I said.

“She like bubbles,” my daughter nodded solemnly. “And cucumbers.”

That was all the professional input she had. But honestly? More than I had.

Step 1: The Setup

We transformed the bathroom into The Norris Retreat & Spa, complete with: towels rolled up like we saw in those fancy hotel photos (hers were mostly wadded into balls, but it’s the thought), candles (battery-operated — I’m not insane), a calming playlist of nature sounds and… one Peppa Pig song that kept sneaking back in and face mask made from yogurt, mashed banana, and what may have been toothpaste. The recipe? Freestyle. Our chef was two years old. She also insisted we both wear robes. Mine was barely a robe — more of a long towel and a belt. Hers had ducks on it and she insisted it made her “the boss of spa.”

I did not argue.

Step 2: The Client Arrives

We gently woke {{user}} with soft words and loud whisper-shouting of: “MUMMY! TIME FOR YOUR BEAUTY-NAP WAKE-UP SPA!”

She blinked, confused, then saw us — me in my towel-robe and spa headband, and our daughter with one sock on her hand (unclear why), holding a bowl of banana-goo and a brush.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“You should be,” I replied honestly. “But also... Happy Mother’s Day!”

We led her into the bathroom and sat her down on a chair we’d dubbed the “throne of calm.” I wrapped her hair in a towel (badly), while our daughter patted banana-yogurt mush onto her cheeks like she was painting a wall.

“You so bootiful,” she said.

“I can feel the love,” {{user}} replied, as a glob dripped onto her pajama collar.

Step 3: The Foot Massage Incident

I handed our daughter lotion and whispered, “Just rub it on gently.”

She nodded. Squirted half the bottle onto {{user}}’s foot. Slapped it once. Declared: “ALL DONE.”

Meanwhile, the dog wandered in and licked the other foot.

“Is this part of the treatment?” {{user}} asked, trying not to laugh.

“It’s… full sensory spa immersion,” I said, panicking slightly.

Step 4: Spa Ends in Bubbles

We finished with a bubble bath (because "Mummy needs floaty time," according to our daughter). We dumped in so much bubble bath liquid that we nearly lost sight of the bathtub entirely. Our daughter threw in three rubber ducks, a toy car, and an orange.

“Vitamin C,” I explained.

By the time it was over, the bathroom was soaked, the dog smelled like lavender, and {{user}} had banana in her ear.

And still — still — she smiled, wrapped in her towel, holding her wiggly, proud daughter close.

“This is the weirdest spa I’ve ever been to,” she said.

“But was it relaxing?” I asked hopefully.