Yes it’s true, I love soft play. In a sort of hate it kind of way. I love it because I can basically abandon my children in soft play (yes I’m that parent) and let them get on with it whilst I sit back safe in the knowledge that they’re unlikely to come to any serious harm. It is called soft play after all – what could possibly go wrong?
My favourite soft play places are the ones with a decent cafe attached. Regular readers will know that I’m rather fond of my tea and cake (although wouldn’t it be amazing if there was a bar attached, and all the mums and dads could sit around and drink wine whilst the little darlings amused themselves. That, my friends, is utopia). Anyhow, I digress. My favourite soft play places have a good cafe, which sells a proper brew and nice homemade cakes. Ideally there will also be comfy sofas, and the seating will be positioned such that there is a good view of the soft play area. I prefer smaller soft plays where you have half a chance of seeing the kids flying past every once in a while. The smaller ones also tend to have fewer of those giant children that stomp all over the little ones.
It’s a perfect business model, really: knackered mum turns up with pumped-up over-energetic pre-schoolers. She pays handsomely for the privilege of them burning off some of that energy in a safe, non-house-trashing way, and at the same time can sort herself out with caffeine and sugar.
I don’t really understand the Alpha Mummies who follow their children around soft play. I question their logic for going, if they’re not going to capitalise on the opportunity for chill out time! But then again, I forgot – the Alpha Mummies like doing this sort of thing. They actually enjoy squeezing themselves through tube slides and being buried in ball pits (shudder).
I’ve just had a hideous flashback to when I was approximately 9 months pregnant. FC#1 was 21 months old and for some reason I thought it was a good idea to follow him into a soft play area….I got stuck. I got very stuck. Luckily I did eventually manage to free myself, but not until I’d thought through (in great detail) a rather disturbing scenario in which I had to live in soft play for several days/weeks, and give birth in there before my gargantuan belly would shrink enough for me to squeeze back out. I even worked out which bits of soft play apparatus I could use to get in a good birthing position… God I’m f*cked up.