Beating about the bush

The tiny changing cubicles at the open-air pool were cranky, with canvas curtains the wind sometimes caught and wafer-thin separating panels, feet visible below.

While changing, after an invigorating swim, a mother and small daughter arrived next door. The 4 year old chatted while, I imagine, mum dried off. The 'chat' was interrogation, at 'see' level... about what she saw.

"Why have you got hair there?" ...followed by a series of one word supplementary questions... "Why?"

Mum's valiant attempts at answering were doomed to failure. I kept quiet to save her embarrassment, although the more embarrassed was me!