Yes, I really do mean trauma, because let’s
face it, soft play is hell on earth. It’s also the easiest way to have a cup of
tea with my friends without being constantly harassed by the kids proclaiming
that they are “bored”. Have you ever seen the rules in a soft play area? My
local one states that children must not play with fire in the play area. That
should indicate how hellish it is. There’s a rule about fire.
I love soft play, whoever thought of it
should be rewarded richly, however I also hate it and here is why.
You arrive, juggling the kids to read a
sign on the door saying you must pay for entry before entering the area. So off
you go, to the till, balance a tray on your head to hold the vastly overpriced
food and drinks you are about to buy (how are you charging me so much for a
fruit shoot when I could buy four for a quid in Co-op?) During this you must
also try and stop the kids from running in without you before they have the all-important
wristband.
The wristband that grants entry that
you need to take out a loan in order to afford, this is immediately placed upon
the child’s wrist and about five minutes later they will be screaming trying to
pull it off, despite warnings that they will have to leave the soft play if
they do.
You are in! You sit down with your overpriced
food and drink and immediately leap back up, because the kids have gone sailing
in with their shoes still on. You spend ten minutes chasing them back out in
order to remove their shoes. They pull off their socks. You spend five minutes
convincing them they HAVE to wear socks because soft play is actually gross and
you aren’t paying a fiver to remove the verruca’s they will get.
You notice the soft play smells a
little bit like sick and old chips.
Off they go, you sit with your friend
and start a conversation that is likely based around the kids you came here to
be free of, except one of them is now stuck in the ball pit and needs rescuing
before they are lost in the balls forever. You head in, realise you have shoes
on, take shoes off, realise you have no socks on, put shoes back on and ignore
dirty looks from other parents as you wade in and save drowning child.
Child is free of ball pit. Child jumps
straight back into ball pit.
You go back to your tea. It’s still
sort of warm so you drop some more sugar in and sit back down. Conversation
about how tired you are begins.
Child is once again wailing. They’ve
got in a fight with another child. Both children are crying. You cross your
fingers that your child wasn’t the instigator and go over to assess the damage.
Your child is whinging but is clearly unharmed. Other child is nursing a red
mark and wailing incoherently whilst his Mum says things like “Oh it’s ok, it
happens to us all” but her eyes say something totally different and she clearly
wants to throttle you and your demon child.
Play is resumed with the promise that
no more fights will occur.
Another fight immediately occurs.
You sit down again, your tea is stone
cold and the chips you ordered arrived whilst you were breaking up numerous
fights. Also cold.
Children come over for nourishment and
eat overpriced snacks, drink overpriced drinks and finish off your chips.
You go to the toilet entrusting ALL the
children with friend whilst she stares at her phone wishing she was in bed.
You come back and ALL the kids need the
loo now, so off you go again. Reaching the loo and realizing none of them have
shoes on, so you carry the children one by one that weigh the same as baby
elephant to the loo then the sink and so on.
Back to the play! You sit and manage an
actual ten minute conversation with friend about the kids and you finally start
to move on to discuss important things like politics when…
One of the kids has returned, they’ve
been in yet another fight and this time, they are the injured party. So off you
go to make amends whilst trying to not do the angry “my poor child” eyes.
You say “Oh it’s okay my kid whacked
another one earlier, ha ha ha” and immediately regret it because now the parent
is looking at you like maybe your demon started it and not theirs.
It doesn’t matter any anymore because
you have to go dive back into the play because your other child is climbing up
the slide, despite the rules clearly saying not too and there’s a queue of kids
at the top getting more and more pissed off.
A kid decides to go down anyway whilst
you are in the middle of removing yours and it’s a big crash. Other parents
stare, wondering who you are and when you will leave.
You sit back down, a child that doesn’t
belong to you wanders over to mooch what food you have, whilst trying to locate
a parent for the child you notice your own has joined another family and is wolfing
down their mini cheddars.
You throw them back into the ball pit
for some quiet but suddenly, now it’s convenient, they’ve learnt to escape.
You say “five more minutes” but by the
time you’ve dragged them all out and put their shoes back on it’s actually been
thirty, one is missing a sock and the other has lost a hair clip and it’s the END
OF THE WORLD.
You drag them out, flustered, more
tired than when you arrived, promise friend that next time, you will actually
talk and see each other properly.
Rinse and repeat.
