Soft play

Why weren't soft play centres around when I was a kid? The concept seems pretty simple - find a warehouse on an industrial estate, fill it with ball pits, bouncy castles, slides, padded floors and things to climb on, and then charge through the nose for small children to exhaust themselves while their parents relax with a well-earned cuppa.

We went to one of these this afternoon with a friend and her two girls, aged 4.5 and 1.5. Downside was that the parking was almost non-existent and there were lots of warning notices about clamping, but the upside was the comfy sofas once we managed to get inside, and the fact that it didn't smell of old socks, sweaty feet, and armpits, with an undertone of crash mats, which is what most of these places smell like. Isabel and both of the girls loved it, to the extent that Isabel emerged two hours later doing a remarkable impression of a cherry tomato - her face was glowing red, and she was like a little radiator. She even went on a big bumpy slide which terrified her for a good while, but once we'd been on it together (no sign banning pregnant women, so on I went!) she then abandoned me and did it herself about 40 times more. Good job, since climbing up there once was about enough for me - back to the sofas and a nice hot chocolate!

Also had time for a lovely chat with C, one of my best and oldest friends (I mean that in a nice way). Her little girl starts school in April and the school issue therefore dominated the conversation - Isabel has a uniform whereas her daughter won't. I think on balance, even though our uniform rules are very prescriptive (bottle green hairbands?! Goodness sake!) it does stop all arguments in the morning about what to wear, and no competition between the children about clothing. Isabel even now gets herself dressed in the morning which is just marvellous - making me even more apprehensive about starting again with Pumpkin in three months' time. Gulp.