BEFORE SPAWNING A CHILD, I had no idea what a soft play centre was. Now, like many parents out there, it occupies a special place in my life (and my heart).
With slides, ball pits and even the odd themed birthday party, the soft play centre offers the double whammy of both entertaining and exhausting kids.
With so many kids around, there are plenty of parents, minders, grandparents and primary caregivers to people-watch too. Here are just a few of the parenting breeds I’ve encountered…
Forking out for soft play membership rather than paying the one-off fee is pricey, and these parents get their money’s worth by taking little Finn or Aoife at every possible moment.
The kids could probably navigate the soft play structure blindfolded. You’ll spot the parents calmly reading a book or magazine, safe in the knowledge that their child is on first name terms with the staff, if they should come to any harm.
Glassy eyed, possibly pregnant or with a tiny baby in tow. This parent has come to soft play in the desperate, desperate hope that tearing around some padded mats will eventually tire their older child into a sweet, blissful sleep.
The laptop is out, the mobile is tucked under their chin and they’re toting a giant Americano. Their uniform is generally a fashionable ensemble that’s somehow entirely free of creases. Meanwhile, their child is methodically emptying balls out of the ball pit.
Uh-oh, there’s a battle on for the last Little Tikes Cozy Coupe and one child has their playmate in a headlock. As for the parent of said child, they’re sitting far away, quite comfy and enjoying a hot cup of coffee.
Sure isn’t life is all about the survival of the fittest? Plus, no-one seems to be drawing blood – and the other parent doesn’t seem to have noticed.
This tribe of parents meet regularly at soft play for ‘a bit of a catch up’, along with frothy coffees and cheeky carrot cakes. They’re formidable in their numbers and have a knack for bagging every chair in a six mile radius. Their offspring seem to have absorbed their elders’ herd mentality and tend to commandeer key locations in the soft play area (usually the slide).
These brave chaps are the ones who have decided (or have been ordered) to give their co-parent some child-free time. They’re the only ones foolhardy enough to brave the soft play centre on a wet Saturday afternoon. Their kids are generally gleeful to have wrangled a better level of sugary snack than they do with mum.
Me: Ah your wee one’s fearless on the slide isn’t he! What age is he?
NHTMF: Three.
Me: Ah same as mine but I can’t get him on the slide at all. They’re funny at that age aren’t they?
NHTMF: Mmm.
While I’d love to dish out some form of child-friendly insult about them being a poo-face, I usually slope off silently, watching smugly as their child throws a hissy fit at leaving time.
Nothing bad is going to happen, not on their watch. Grandparents are without doubt the most conscientious of soft play carers. No time for coffees or chit-chat, because they’re straight in to negotiate sharing on the toy cars or to man the trampoline like a Baywatch lifeguard.
They’re the ones who take up residence at the bottom of the slide and under the rope bridges, monitoring every step their precious progeny takes. They’re encouraging, engaged and, frankly, making the rest of us look bad for nursing our lattes and surrendering our children to the soft play Tardis.
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