Bridge Views: For the Tired Playdate Host

While out with girlfriends one night, talk turned to playdates. Specifically, how tiring it is to always be the ones who host the playdates. We thought, wouldn’t it be funny if there was a template you could just fill out and hand to the parent of every child who has spent more time in your house than your husband? Well, no coaxing needed; here it is:

PLAYDATE TEMPLATE

By (Insert Your Name Here)

Dear (insert Mom’s name),

It is an absolute pleasure having (insert child’s name) frequently come to our house to play; and although I thoroughly enjoy feeding (him/her) afternoon snacks, doing (his/her) homework with (him/her) and feeding (him/her) dinner because the evening news has just ended and you haven’t yet retrieved (him/her), I feel that there are a few guidelines we need to establish.

1. Please teach your child basic bathroom skills. I’m long passed the “wipe me” stage, so inform (insert child’s name here) that they’re on their own for this simple human task. I hereby refuse to cleanse the loins of anyone who is not biologically of my loins; even then I have my limits.

2. Understand that my dog, a.k.a. Bad Dog, is fond of eating all things Chinese—spareribs, egg rolls, lo mein, Bakugan toys, Pokemon figures, Barbie and all her friends.

Bad Dog does not discriminate. So if (insert child’s name here) melts down because (his/her) 12 retractable Bakugans are resting uncomfortably in Bad Dog’s lower intestines, or because Polly Pocket’s microscopic shoes are cleaved onto the dog’s molars, do not complain or expect that I will pay ridiculous amounts of money to replace these worthless pieces of Chinese plastic. Those are your investment choices for your child; not mine. Also, if Bernie Madoff has taught you anything, you should know that all investments are risky. Especially in our house.

3. Please, I beg of you, teach (insert child’s name here) the difference between a penny glass of Welch’s grape juice and a $10 glass of Pinot Noir. (He/she) guzzled my whole glass and now I have to send (him/her) home to you sauced. At least (insert child’s name here) will sleep well tonight; so, you’re welcome.

4. Tell (insert child’s name here) to refrain from commenting on the dust bunnies that (he/she) notices beneath my couch, refrigerator, bed, etc.  If (insert child’s name here) insists on engaging in such undesirable activities then please tell (him/her) to refrain from announcing authoritatively while I am on the phone with my own mother, “My mommy would never let the maid get away with this in our house.”

That will force me to respond, “I am the maid in this house,” to which (he/she) will predictably counter, “Then mommy would fire you.” Such observations will only result in my wanting to shove (insert child’s name here) beneath the refrigerator to go permanently live in the land of the dust bunnies. 

5. When you come to collect (insert child’s name here) do not feel the need to pitch a tent and stay to chat with me. I am not interested in how busy you were at work—you were with adults, I was stuck with children. I’m also not interested in hearing the frequency or infrequency of you and your partner’s sexual activities. Frankly, that ruins my appetite and sears an indelible impression of your unclothed partner onto my brain. As my son would say, “That’s not a necessary.” 

6. Also, if (insert child’s name here) should throw a tantrum when you come to collect (him/her) keep in mind that you are the adult. When little (insert child’s name here) starts banging (his/her) head against my antique (read: Goodwill) armoire because (he/she) wants to stay, grab (him/her) and use physical force if necessary to eject (him/her) from the premises. Mantra: There is no reasoning with a head-banging seven-year-old. Ever.

7. Upon collecting (insert child’s name here) do not respond to (his/her) repeated requests for the date of the next playdate. Common courtesy suggests that the host needs a minimum one week recovery period to forget the trauma. If you say “Maybe you can come over tomorrow,” as a way to get (insert child’s name here) peaceably out the door, I will bang your head against said antique (read: Goodwill) armoire.

Again, it is an absolute pleasure having (insert child’s name here) come over to play. Or at least it will be if you can comply with these simple guidelines.

Sincerely,

(Insert your name here)

Notarized on:______________

Place Notary Seal Here: