Playdating com

In fact, my husband and I agreed early this year that we wouldn’t buy any more toys until Christmas because they often go unused. We have one toy that draws rave reviews – a beat-up old Sit ‘n Spin I picked up at a tag sale. Apparently, Newman’s Own lemonade is “yucky.” Note to self – stock up on processed, cheezy, gummy crap before next playdate. Someday, we’ll get a Dora powered Jeep and a Barbie Dream Castle.

This is fine until we arrange a date to play with outsiders, especially boys. We have one bigwheel and a few sad, ride-on vehicles in the garage, none of which are battery operated. I’ll stock my kitchen with Twinkies and Yoo Hoo and we will ROCK the playdate scene.

Telly is getting exhausted from playing football, when Baby Bear and Goldilocks return, the latter having found out that Baby Bear was lying.

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Let me clarify: the playdates I disdain are those mommy-and-me ones.

Now that my older daughter is in kindergarten, I’ve hosted a few drop-off playdates and I’m totally cool with those.

Sometimes, I host a playdate out of obligation to other families.

After my kids trash their house and eat all their snacks on more than one occasion, I feel obligated to reciprocate.

This is all fine and dandy when my kids are on their own. I’m scared shitless about other kids’ allergies so I never know what to serve.

They have wonderful imaginations and are most interested in art supplies and books. The bowl full of grapes I painstakingly cut in half at the last playdate went untouched. It seems that every playdate I attend with kids under five ends with at least one mom apologizing for the convulsing child who a) refuses to share or b) didn’t nap or c) must be “coming down with something.” Good times.

Telly is upset no one will play with him now, until Gina offers to be his playdate and throws the football with him.

Luis reads some kids the story of "The Little Monster Who Cried Wolf".

a scheduled appointment for children to get together and play.

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