I have a confession to make. Before I agreed to write about having a mother-daughter manicure and pedicure at Rosewood Tucker’s Point Spa I had to get clarification on what exactly a spa was and what one did there.My four-year-old explained it to me. “You get your nails done, mummy, and they put cucumbers on your eyes.”“Ohh ...” was my response.Quietly, my heart sank. It didn’t sound like a nerd-friendly activity at all. Would there be books to clutch while our nails were being beautified? And how long would the whole thing take? My daughter’s finger and toe nails are only slightly bigger than the average flea.I agreed for three reasons: one it was complimentary; two I knew I had to do something to make up for the time I dragged her around Spittal Pond trying to introduce her to the wonders of nature; and three, did I mention it was offered free?Also it would help to reduce the trauma she had recently experienced when she came home, looked in my closet and realised she owned more high heels than I did.“Where are you high heels?” she asked in a shocked voice, looking at all the sneakers and battered sandals I owned.On arriving at Tucker’s Point I was quite relieved that no one suggested we strip and put on warm terry cloth robes I have my limits. One of my phobias is carrying out work assignments wearing only my underwear.Other guests appeared in the nail salon wearing these robes later, so this was clearly an option for people less inhibited than myself.The atmosphere in the spa was very peaceful. There were aromatic candles burning and they offered a signature drink that involved honey and ginger. You could also get a bottle of (expensive) water to sip.In an upscale place like this, you might expect staff to regard children as a nuisance (and who could blame them, children are a royal nuisance) but they were friendly and welcoming to her from the start. When we were ushered in to the pampering arena, we were asked to pick from their line of finger nail polishes. The spa therapist was quite happy to accommodate my daughter’s desire to have her nails painted in two different colours. I chose a single shade of fuchsia.We were seated on throne-like chairs on a raised bench and urged to stick our feet in lovely, hot water. Because my daughter’s legs weren’t that long, she skipped the hot water part.“So what do you call this thing?” I asked, thinking maybe it was something fancy like a foot spa or super 900 water whirlamatic. The lady working my feet looked at me incredulously and said: “Haven’t you ever been to a spa before? That’s a sink!”Okay, outed as a newbie, and possibly an idiot, from the get-go. We continued on.They washed our feet and rubbed a honey ginger compound on our legs. Here, I learned my first hard lesson at the spa. Never, under any circumstances, attempt to spot shave your legs five minutes before going to the spa. The compound on my legs began to tickle a little, and then to just plain burn. Hastily the lady washed off the concoction and my leg was turning the same shade of pink that I’d picked for my nails.My daughter was happily enjoying the experience of having someone, besides her mother, wash her feet with a cloth. We had a picture taken together having our feet washed.At one stage they took hot black rocks and held them to our feet. It sounded a little alarming, but it felt very nice. It made me wonder how they got the rocks to be hot. Did they pop them in the microwave ahead of time? What setting would you choose on the microwave for rocks? These are the thoughts you have at the spa, because, no, there aren’t any books there. The most mentally stimulating activity is eavesdropping on the people getting their hair done.After much buffing and scrubbing of toe nails, they were finally ready to be painted. This was a fairly quick process and we soon moved over to a table to have our finger nails done. Our toes slid into a little blower machine to dry the nails faster. Unfortunately, one of my toes bumped something and had to be completely repainted. My daughter had her nails done in alternating colours and then had a little white flower carefully applied to the top of each.Trouble arose here, because, as I said, her nails weren’t very big, and she was done sooner than I was. As various bits of paint dried, she grew restless and began muttering: “This is boring.” Be warned, if you take your child to a place like this, you will need an activity to occupy them at some point. I don’t know what this would be other than maybe taking a portable DVD player and putting on a movie. If you do this, you will need someone else to work the DVD player. Once the spa therapists apply coats of paint to your nails you will become completely useless.The overall activity was relaxing, but afterward was a little bit in the opposite direction. My nails started to chip before I even got out of the hotel I think I did it as I pushed open a door. After that it was all down hill. I am told that this is all par for the course when having your nails done, and has nothing to do with the salon in question. The next chip happened when I went to pull my keys out of my purse and the next one occurred when I attempted to fasten my daughter’s seat belt. If I had actually plunked down money for this, I think I would have cried.Despite the chipping I did leave the polish on for some time and having your nails done like that does attract attention. I did eventually use nail polish remover to take it off my fingers, but my toenails are still pink and largely unchipped. It seems like getting your toenails done might be considered better value than getting your fingernails done.On the whole it was a nice bonding experience, leaving us both feeling posh and flashy at least at the tips of our fingers and toes. I asked my daughter if she wanted to go back and she suggested, “Next week, mummy”, which was better than Spittal Pond when her answer was a tearful: “Never”.