The term “playdate” bothers me immensely. It suggests a formal arrangement for children to interact, when in reality, kids should simply engage in play. Ideally, this should happen outdoors or at a friend’s place.
I often reminisce about my own childhood experiences, where my mother would lock us outside to entertain ourselves. My weekends as a child were a predictable routine: waking up at dawn, watching cartoons like The Smurfs and The Flintstones, and turning the basement into a chaotic playground. Once breakfast was done, chores awaited us, and then came the best part — being locked outside to play. Those are the carefree memories that I wish my children could also cherish.
Instead, they seem destined to remember meticulously organized playtimes. In fact, with my eldest, I was initially all in for playdates, joining every local playgroup I could find. I sought support and engaging conversations, only to realize these gatherings resembled intense peace treaties among tiny tyrants, complete with discussions about the best sippy cups and strollers.
During those two-hour slots, I found myself trailing after the kids, cleaning up snacks and toys while longing to relax on the couch with a drink and chat with other moms. Strangely, it appeared that the idea of a morning cocktail was off the table.
And then there were the unsolicited playdates. On several occasions, kids would extend invitations from my home without my prior knowledge. A child would ask if my daughter could come over to play, and I’d allow it, only for the child’s parent to inquire about pickup times. I was baffled; the rule seemed simple enough: if you invite, you host.
Eventually, I faced the moment when my kids could play independently. Initially, I was thrilled, but it soon dawned on me that I was now responsible for more than just my two. One of my daughter’s friends expressed dissatisfaction with the snack offered and wanted alternatives. Another child wandered into my kitchen uninvited, rifling through the fridge. My son’s friend refused to call me “Mrs. Thompson” despite being corrected multiple times, and another child had an accident in my bathroom and wouldn’t emerge.
I still struggle to grasp why kids can’t just head outside and play freely anymore. My home is conveniently located near several of my son’s classmates, and my daughter is capable of walking to her friends’ houses. However, it seems no one simply ventures out to play; every interaction appears to require scheduling first. Perhaps I should equip my children with smartphones to book their playdates in advance.
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In summary, while playdates were once a casual event, they have evolved into structured affairs that often leave parents feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. The nostalgia of unsupervised play is fading, replaced by the need for scheduling and organization.
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