Margot was on term break from nursery this week so we were looking for some activities to fill our days. When Margot was staring into the window of the local Mystical Fairies store (again), we noticed a flyer for Fairy School: two hours of learning to be a fairy, with crafts, cupcakes (aka fairy cakes here), dancing and general fairy-ness. It all sounded like a nightmare to me, but perfect for Margot. So we signed on.
Inside, the fairy store is a floor-to-ceiling pink, sparkly, girly world. To Margot, it's pure magic. It looks to me like someone vomited Pepto-Bismol. The sales people are dressed as fairies. When you buy something, they ask cheerily, "Would you like some fairy dust with that?" It's all I can do to say, "uh, no thank you" and not run screaming.
Anyway, we descended into the cellar, Fairy World. The walls are murals of flowers, stars, fairies and such things. Giant flowers emerge from the walls. It's not a large room and they pack in 20 wannabe fairies and their carers. It was suffocating. My head started to throb. We signed up with two friends: one a potty-training no-show and the other bailed early claiming a pending fever. Cowards!
Each little girl borrows a fairy dress, unless her mom already shelled out 60GBP for one upstairs. Margot elbowed out some other girls for her selection. We soldiered on with sparkly crafts, disco dancing, singing, story-telling, hand-painting (Margot doesn't do face-painting) and fairy-cake decorating. The three fairies who run the event are either great actresses or take some sort of mind-altering drugs. They kept the little ones enthralled and completely believing they were fairies.
Margot had a fabulous time. I didn't deck anyone. We even managed to leave the store without any fairy dust.
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