Yes you heard me right, I said soft play centre and check out this pic, it's my Smidge looking at a real boy.
Until this latest attack of 'must-try-and-be-normal', Smidge was starting to believe that other children only exist in two forms.
2D (story books) or 3D (on screen animated), So this here Premmy Mum has had to take emergency measures in order to restore some sense of normality.
How it happened:
I awoke one morning to the chirpy sounds of Smidge lobbing soft objects out of the cot (presumably to provoke some sort of motion from yours truly) and suddenly and without warning this weird thing washed over me..
It wasn't emotion (good god no..) It was more like a thought process with the potential to lead to positive outcomes.
Thats it... Optimism.
Anyway, this optimism tried to convince me that soft play would be okay.. especially if we got to the centre early, before any germ ridden children put in an appearance.
Seizing the moment and packing a bag in record time, we arrived a little before 9am, Why, the doors had even opened.
Cool, only one granny standing outside with her apparently chicken-poccless/ non spluttering grand children.We go over and wait in the queue.
We are stood there for a minute or two before Granny initiates some small talk,which is fine but then she utters the most disheartening sentence...
'Great offer isn't it?'
'Offer?' I say, with a
'Buy one get one free if you're in before 10.00am' says Granny.
The place will be swamped. More kids, more germs. Damn that buy one get one free offer.
Bit it's too late to back out now. An excited Smidge is already peering through the glass door exclaiming 'Ball!' 'Ball!' ..over and over again.
So we enter the germ fest, anti bacterial wipes on hand, a defeated look on my face as I reluctantly accept that the possibility of wiping down 2000 balls is looking less and less achievable.
Smidge wonder's fourth and it's not long before shes in her complete element, climbing,tumbling, throwing balls and babbling excitedly, all the time reminding me repeatedly that there are balls.
Ten minutes in and I'm thinking 'well..she gets so much out it, look at her little face *oh the Joy* etc..etc..'
But then I smell something.
Then I get the waft.
It can not be. I tell myself.
But low and behold, I appear to have mopped up someone else's vomit with my jeans! Scooping Smidge up,I speedily vacate the premises to drive home and get changed. It's only then that I realise that we left her shoes behind.
'What were the chances of that happening?' said one day Hubby.
Pretty high actually.