Clearly I wasn’t! On Sunday we met up with an old friend and her baby. Trying to think of a baby/toddler friendly place in advance of our meet up, led me to the brain wave of an afternoon at the Commie soft play. Reflecting back I think it is fairly evident that a) I don’t go to soft play very often and b) I am an idiot! Because, who doesn’t know that you DON’T go to soft play on a weekend (clearly the other 50 + idiots there with their kids).
So the boys and I rock up for our afternoon of adventure to be greeted by a scene from a Saturday afternoon at Murrayfield Stadium. It was pandemonium so of course right up Max’s street, as he tore off leaving Harry and I lagging behind him. I used to swim competitively at the Commie so I really should have thought this one through, of course there would be a swimming gala on…
Struggling with a chunky baby and an exploring toddler (OFF the reins, again why?) we made it down the never-ending hall to the soft play entrance, only to be told that you have to pay at the entrance desk (are you kidding me?!) I nearly wept, this was probably the sign to go home. But nope, a sucker for punishment we ran back to the front desk to pay, although now I have a tantruming toddler who can’t understand why we aren’t going in to play…
After what seems like forever we are in! As I scour the sea of bodies looking for an empty table, Max is off and does the unthinkable. He breaks the ultimate soft play law and runs off inside wearing his trainers. Not wanting to be named and shamed over the tannoy, I scoop Harry under my arm and enter the ginormous climbing frame.
Inside it’s filled with screaming, hyperactive children who fling themselves at the climbing frame, and at me. It’s actually quite terrifying! I naively shout out “Max, Max” and a cheeky 5-year-old parrots it back.
Now any parents who has actually gone round the apparatus with their child will be aware, it is designed like a SAS assault course. If you survive half an hour in there then you can join the Marines. It’s just insane. Built with obstacles which you need to duck and dive under, climb over, hands and knees across or rope burn your way down. It is sheer hell and it’s bloody painful. Plus you have to avoid the hoards of children who see you as an extra obstacle in their path of destruction. I even got a telling off from a 3 year for going down the slide when you’re not meant to as “it’s for children only!” Eh sorry? At this point I’m glad that Max can’t read!
Somehow we managed to survive an hour before being booted out via the tannoy, much to my delight. Max was less happy to leave and I had to drag/carry him out kicking and screaming. Harry on the other hand was all smiles leaving as he cried the whole time DURING soft play (give me strength!). Anyway as we made our way towards the exit, eagle-eyed Max spotted the pool toys for sale. Now of course both boys make a beeline for these and start effortlessly pulling apart the toy displays in swift movements (if I wasn’t so embarrased I’d be impressed at their agility). So there I am frantically trying to catch balls, re-arrange floats and re-hang swimming costumes whilst other parents tut and stare. Now bored of this, they decide to run off, in separate directions.
At this point I’m done, I capture them both and we stumble our way to the car. We get home and my husband asks how it went?
HOW IT WENT? I will never ever be taking them to soft play on a Sunday again, that’s how it went. Never. EVER!
ps the photo demonstrates the mess they made in the 20 minutes it took me to write this…
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