“What about you, Aiden?” he asks.
Pi scratches his moustache, pretending to think. “Since you dared me, I think it’s only fair if you pick for me.”
“Bruhhhh,” Logan says, his eyes widening with scheming mischief. “You just made a huge mistake.”
Eventually, when our time comes to sit in the chair, Logan cups his palm around my ear and whispers to me. “What’s Aiden’s favourite movie?”
“You’re gonna get something he’ll like? Not a unicorn, or a butterfly, or Elsa?” I saw him eying up the princess board.
Logan shrugs. “I just want to do a nice thing for him.”
My nose prickles in that way it does when it wants to alert me that I’m having feelings. “Well . . . he really likesStar Trek, but I’m not sure you can get aStar Trekface paint.”
“Does he likeGuardians of the Galaxy?” he says, the words tickling my ear.
“He loves it, yes.”
“Okay, we’ve decided,” Logan announces, and Pi closes his eyes, puts his fingers in his ears, and starts singing a tune I vaguely recognise as “Overload” by Sugababes. “Can you do Groot?” he asks the face-painting woman.
“Of course. Would you like a full face or a little one on the cheek with some leaves and twinkles as decoration?”
“Twinkles!” Logan shouts.
Pi opens an eye and swings it round to him. “I heard that last part,” he says, taking his fingers out of his ears.
“What’s your name?” the face painter asks Pi.
“Uh . . . Aiden,” he replies.
“Okay, Aiden luv, I’m just going to lower the seat. If you can close your eyes for me . . . Would you like glitter?” she asks once she’s nearly finished with Pi’s cheek Groot.
“Yes!” Logan answers on Pi’s behalf.
“Sure,” he says.
She applies green and yellow glitter and sprays it with some kind of setting spray, then passes him the mirror.
“Bloody ripper. I love it. Thanks, Logan,” he says.
“Me next.” Logan practically pushes Pi out of the seat.
“Spider-Man, is it?” she asks, then gets to work. My child is both the model pupil and a colossal pain in the ass. He’s as statuesque as he’s asked to be, but will not stop throwing random questions at the poor woman.
“Are the face paints vegan?”
“What would happen if you ran out of red paint forever?”
“Who’s your favourite Superhero?”
“Why is it raining so much?”
“How long do you have to train to become a professional face painter?”
By the time she’s moved on to me, I can see the jet lag setting into her features. “Would you like glitter?” she asks me at the end.
“Absolutely,” I reply.
She takes a few photos of us together, and we snap some selfies.
