School is starting up again, which means one thing. Play dates.
I’m not a fan.
I didn’t mind them when they involved my baby, cooing in his stroller, while my girlfriend and I talked it
up. Technically NOT a play date as there was only one child there – mine - but to me, that’s a good play
I hate them more than I hate celery. And Miley Cyrus. And a fork in my near-sighted eyeball.
Maybe it was being scarred by the kid who came over, and then stole my son’s Yoda Lego character, and
then kept insisting that play dates only happen at our house, and only in my son’s room (also known as
Mecca – Land of Lego). Sorry kid, void of any personality and the ability to giggle, please go now. Don’t
come back now – like ever.
Perhaps it was when we were invited to someone’s home for a play date, only to discover that my
children and I were now on an un-aired episode of Hoarders.
Or how about the then five year old who came over for a play date with her mom, and refused to play
with my kids, because all she wanted to do was go home and breastfeed. Yup – a five year old who
wanted to breastfeed. That one was all sorts of awkward.
Did I realize that having a child would mean that I would have to hang out with people that I have zero in
common with? Did I know that people would expect me to have these play dates several times a week,
forcing me to clean as if I had an imminent open house coming up? Hell no. I don’t remember having
play dates when I was younger – then again, with five kids in the house, play dates weren’t necessary. I
just need to have three more babies, and I’ll be FREE!!!! Putting triplets on the to-do list right now.
No amount of caffeine can take away the pain of a play date – believe me I’ve tried. I have the Starbucks
receipts to prove it.
How about you? Are you a lover or a hater of the Play Date?
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