It’s kind of universally acknowledged that the “children’s play centre” is one of the biggest misnomers going around. I mean, how much time does the kid spend actually playing as opposed to requesting food, chucking tantrums or bleeding from an orifice?
We had the pleasure of party number 1,506 on the weekend for Jack, our seven year old. At the very same time, Maddison, my daughter, had also been invited to a party that started 30 minutes later, 30 minutes away. At the very same time as this, my husband was 100 kilometers away throwing a ball at a bat. So I was the parent that left her child at the party unattended and arrived back, 30 minutes before the party finished. Daggers. Oh yeah, I saw a few aimed my way. Luckily, one of his teachers was also there and was more than happy to keep an eye on him for me. She also informed me she’d only call if there was blood or a concussion.
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by CHUX. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
By this stage of the party, there had been both but thankfully, my child had not been involved in either. The day however, was still young. Yet by now, I’d been to enough of these things to know more than necessary about a children’s party.
And this much I did know:
I know there will be at least one musical instrument planted inside a party bag that will make me want to shove said musical instrument so far dispose of the mini piccolo/mini xylophone/ear-piercing-whistle the minute I get home. Basically, this is an inside parent joke that passive aggressively tells you, the attendees parent, to go and get rooted. I am trying to source mini bagpipes for Jack’s next birthday party.
I also know that more often than not your child will have their face painted in such a way that you will require sugar soap and a wire brush to remove it later on that night.
Lastly, from my experience I know that ironically, nearly every child leaving a Play centre named Smileez will exit crying. Now this may very well be because they have barstardised the English language OR because these places aren’t play centres at all. No, I think they were cooked up by some sadist who likes seeing tiny children, an overabundance of tiny teddies and WWF smacks downs combined in confined spaces.
Let me tell you, if they served alcohol, these play centres, these parties, would be a TOTALLY different situation.
Life is messy. And as much as these parties can leave you nothing more than a mere shell of the person you walked in as, your kids get a massive kick out of being there.
For anyone who has recently attempted a DYI kids’ birthday party, here’s a little something to cheer you up:
How though, how have you survived the children’s play centre party? And do you have any solutions to keeping cool?
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