🧃 Soul Snacks

2.5 min read

Dear Snackers,

Playdates, woof. 

Love them or hate them, after a certain age, playdates become somewhat inevitable. I’ve never allowed playdates before kindergarten, and even well into first grade or second grade, they’re rare in my house. For a long time, when my son was in cancer treatment, having a playdate and exposing him to any unnecessary germs was an extremely easy “no”. His kindergarten year also happened to roll directly in to the pandemic, which provided plenty more excuses to hold off on playdates, which was one silver lining. 

The year my daughter was in kindergarten, I made the mistake of allowing her to have a playdate with a little girl I didn’t know very well. I was all hopped up on trying to be normal coming out of the pandemic, so when she asked, I caved. It wasn’t long before the girls were rummaging through my closet trying on my high heels and God knows what else. If I didn’t intervene, they’d probably be rifling through my bathroom cabinets next getting ready to shave off their eyebrows. In an effort to keep them out of my shit, I suggested we walk to the park. That’s when all hell broke loose. When I asked the girls to put their shoes on, my daughter’s friend glared at me and demanded, “Get my shoes. They’re over there,” pointing me toward the front door where she tossed them when she first arrived. As a replacement for the words, “Dafaq you just say to me, kid?” I stopped and stared at her with my head slightly tilted as if trying to decipher a foreign language, and replied, “Excuse me?” through squinted eyes. Her face turned bright red. In acknowledgement of her rudeness, she meekly followed up, “Please?” “No, honey, you can get your shoes yourself. Go ahead,” I replied in a matter of fact tone, letting her know subtly that she’d picked the wrong bitch. 

It was a while before I said yes to another playdate after that because, let’s face it, little kids are sort of numbskulls. Kids are apt to do all kinds of shit on playdates that’ll piss me off - things like not greeting you, rooting around your pantry without permission, or carelessly leaving wrappers and other debris in their path, behaving as if they’re at a fucking carnival with unlimited tickets, ultimately indicating they are either too young to understand proper manners, or have not been reminded of such at home…in either case, I don’t appreciate it. 

There are a few exceptions to when playdates do not chafe me. The first is when the kids are old enough to stay out of your hair entirely and play nicely without your intervention – I have not seen this happen before the second grade. The second is when I am helping someone out. I’m always happy to take someone’s kid off their hands for a couple hours if they have a schedule conflict, etc. and, finally, I don’t mind having kids around when I know their parents and have some rapport with the family. In these instances, if the kids are acting up and I say something that comes naturally to me like, “Knock it off you little rats!” and they go home and tell their parents I called them a rat, the parents will likely understand that I was (half) kidding.

Admittedly, some playdates are great. When your kid has a friend who is polite, treats your house respectfully, and keeps your child entertained, you hit the lotto. As my kids have gotten older they’ve made some friends I genuinely enjoy, who are always welcome to spend time at our house. On the flip side, I do my best to instill the fear of God in my own children when they are invited on playdates, so that they behave in a way that is not a nuisance to whomever is hosting them. Almost always before allowing my kids to go to someone else’s home, I remind them to use their manners when being offered a snack or a drink, not to bother the parents or ask for ideas of things to do (figure that out yourself), and most of all, when I arrive to pick you up, don’t pull any nonsense like hiding or dilly dallying - get your shoes on and get your ass in the car, or there will be no more playdates. You can play with your siblings for the rest of your life for all I care, that’s pretty much why I had three of you. 

I could rattle on for days as to why, particularly before a certain age, I loathe the playdate, but what it truly boils down to is this: having people at your house that you don’t know extremely well is always a little uncomfortable. I don’t want the obligation to be polite. This is my home. This is where I like to swear and yell at everyone in peace, and I do not want to feel inhibited by the presence of your random kindergartner. The end. 

Caitlin 

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