We've had playdates before. Last weekend even. They've almost exclusively been with Sammy's buddy, Brandon, who happens to be the son of 1 of my best buddies, Amy. Seeing as I've known Amy for, well, let's just say there are some pictures of us during our awkward teenage years that ought not see the light of day ever again, and Brandon since he was a zygote, these playdates have been fairly easygoing, as much a chance for Amy and me to chitchat as letting the boys burn off steam. As the years have gone by, the boys have needed a lot less active intervention, and we've logged some quality couch sitting time. There may or may not be wine involved.
Today was something different. A few weeks ago, Sammy got his first invitation for a playdate with one of his classmates. His friend’s mom picked them both up from school and let them run rampant for a few hours until I picked mine up. Spring break seems like a reasonable opportunity to return the favor.
Now, like Dooce, I strive to be the valedictorian of just about everything. So, of course, I felt the pressure. I wanted this to be the best playdate in the history of playdates. This did not, however, lead me to actually plan anything to do. That would have been a big waste of time anyway. I think I knew this subconsciously.
And so I spent the afternoon with 2 howler monkeys, I mean sweet little cherubs, who played tag around the house, asked to bake something, and turned the living room into a pillow pit and the sofa into a launching pad. Nothing and no one got broken, so I will definitely call this a success.
Obviously this would be the day that the Hub would have to work late.
They say having 1 child is having 1 child, but having 2 might as well be 4. I’ll go a bit further. 1 boy is 1 boy. 2 boys is a neutron bomb detonation.
It was fun, and not a little bit enlightening, watching my son interact with a friend (other than 1 he was born to have). They fed off each other, in energy, silliness, and even politeness. I didn’t want to hover, and let the boys pull me in when they wanted me, which was surprisingly fairly frequently. And yes, I felt bad every time anybody asked me for something I couldn’t deliver, like I was losing points on the playdate exam. I am a sad person.
But I suppose the true test is when a kid asked to come back before you even tell them it’s time to go home. So in that aspect, score.
I’m gonna need that wine now.
Oh good gracious.
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They asked to do this. And followed through. The biggest shock of the day.
The end result. Thank goodness I had some ingredients to make something (that didn't include eggs - I am a rock star).
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