It occurred to me today that I absolutely hate going to soft play with my girls. I’ve always thought of soft play as being a place that you can sort of relax and know that your children won’t hurt themselves too much thanks to the soft play equipment.
When P2 was born, I went to our local soft play once a week. It was a chance to sit with cake and let P1 run around alone. I watch mums, dads, aunties, childminders all sitting drinking their cups of tea and eating cake whilst the children let off steam and enjoy themselves. We’re not like that. Not one bit and haven’t been since P2 started to become mobile. Hubby’s very protective of her, and as much as I laugh at my hubby’s quirky ways, I do agree with him.
I don’t want to be the parent who has no idea who just gave my daughter a black eye or the parent of the child who caused it. At P2s age she needs to be supervised, even if it’s just by sitting inside the play area and not even interacting. I’m completely on his wave length but it’s exhausting, and I find myself longing to be one of the mums that can sit back and relax.
I can’t wait for her to be older. Like P1. Who is able to climb the apparatus and slide down the slides alone. Who’s able to make friends and learn. Who’s old enough to understand that hitting someone isn’t right. I don’t think it’s going to be long for P2. Each time we visit a soft play area we witness her confidence and ability grow.
Maybe we’re wrong to be like this. I’ve seen many children younger than mine playing quite happily, quite safely without constant parental supervision. I’m not criticising the parents at all. I’m jealous in a way. As much as I love to take the kids to soft play and see their little faces light up, it’s certainly not my little haven and go to anymore.