I’d like to say this is a new conversation but it isn’t.
It starts with one of my two oldest daughters asking make that, begging for a play date and me agreeing to the idea based on previous good behaviour or length of time served from the last play date.
Once we establish who the “winner” of the play date is arrangements are made to determine who the friend will be, where the meeting spot/hand-off/group activity/tattle-fest will take place.
Not before of course a lengthy battle over how the other sibling will comply to the rules and regulations of her sister’s date.
With Ellie (age 5) the older sister (age 7) is a huge threat to her play date fun. She recognizes the appeal another five year old has towards spending time with an older, cooler version of them. Ellie of course just sees the older sister as the girl who laughed hysterically the one time she forgot to firmly affix her bike helmet and sling-shot herself into her handles.
Ellie: Hanna, you’re not allowed to steal my friend.
Hanna: Why would I want to steal your friend, I have friends of my own.
Shouldn’t that be enough? Oh no. This conversation drags on until I start googling “How to deal with sibling rivalry regarding play dates,” “How to avoid play dates altogether,” “How to make your home a play date-free zone,” “Play dates are for suckers,” “Play date Shmay date.”
When we did finally make it to the park, after Hanna’s third signature was stamped by a notary to confirm she would in no way interfere with Ellie’s one on one time with her same aged friend, playing with them only during activities that not only worked but required a third party representative otherwise the game would fall dormant, only then would she be permitted to look in their direction and off of her own crocs while at the park.
We met, the two friends hugged, Hanna counted to seventy-five Mississippily before removing her seatbelt allowing for an uninterrupted greeting.
Then something happened none of our documents had prepared us for, secret option “C.”
The friend took one look at nineteen month old Chloe waddling towards the sand. She lifted her in the air, twirled her around and asked for a hug. She asked if it would be okay if she was the Mom, my baby was her baby and they could play house.
The two older girls toasted each other with a frozen yogurt tube and carried on to climb some maple syrup trees.
On the way home, I suggested to Hanna she stop licking her lips or she’ll….
Hanna interrupting: Or what? I’ll get a hernia?
I’m learning to just expect the unexpected.
