Today, Zed and I were in line to pick Zoey up from preschool, halfway through our Music Appreciation Class (today's lesson: New York Dolls), when I heard a tapping, as of some one gently rapping, rapping at my SUV door.
I almost went through the roof. Seriously.
It was Mrs. Baker, the mother of one of Zoey's classmates. Embarrassed (hey, I was just rockin' with Zed, screaming singing at the top of my lungs (the kid loves to watch me make an fool of myself for me to sing to him)), I rolled down my window.
She handed me a white faux-fur wrap and a tiara. "I think these belong to you," she said.
What? I'm not allowed to be Queen For A Day?
***
On Friday, Ella took the day off work. There was a huge-can't-miss-it consignment sale that morning. That afternoon was Zed's one-year checkup (he had the rotavirus at the time of his actual one-year checkup so we had to reschedule). There are few things I cannot do with both kids. I cannot take both on a business luncheon with my clients. I also cannot take both to the doctor. Sitting in a tiny room, trying to entertain/control Zoey while Zed is poked, prodded, or receiving shots is just too much for me to handle alone. I admit it. I suck.
Once Ella got back from the sale, I started mowing the lawn. I was halfway through with the backyard when Ella came outside.
"Guess who has a playdate?" she asked.
"You?"
"Mrs. Baker just called and wanted to know if Zoey could come over and play with Charlotte today after school."
"Did you tell her no?"
"No."
"Am I allowed to tag along?"
"I don't think so. She offered to pick Zoey up. I think that answers your question right there."
"Zoey's too young to go over to someone's house without me. Call her back and tell her something came up."
"I will not."
"Fine. I'll do it."
"No. You. Won't."
"But she's too young to go to someone's house without one of us!"
"She'll be fine."
Grumble. Grumble. Grumble.
Look, I don't trust most people. Hell, I don't even like most people. But I like Mrs. Baker. She is part of my Monday morning coffee get-together.
But I still didn't trust her.
That afternoon, while Ella and Zed were at the doctor, I begrudgingly readied Zoey for her playdate. I packed her princess clothes and some toys. I drove to Charlotte's house very s-l-o-w-l-y, trying to think of imaginary emergencies that would keep Zoey home. Nothing came to mind.
I dropped Zoey off, gave Mrs. Baker a list of emergency numbers (my house phone, my cellular phone, Ella's cellular phone, my mother's cellular phone (ok, that last one was a lie)), looked around their house for sharp objects, and circled the block until it was time to pick her up went back home. I sat at my house and watched the minutes c-r-e-e-p by.
And when I went to pick her up, she was in one piece. And happy. In fact, she started crying when she saw me because she didn't want to come home.
***
"Thanks," I replied. "Zoey was looking for her tiara yesterday. I assumed it was lost in the clutter of her room."
"No problem," Mrs. Baker responded. "Charlotte really had a good time on Friday."
"So did Zoey. Maybe next time they can play at my house. We just finished the playground on Saturday."
"Sounds good. Maybe we can all have a picnic in your backyard."
Immediately, I knew. It was okay for Zoey to go to her house, but there was no way her daughter could come to my house and be alone with me.
***
Ok. Here's the reader participation portion of our story. I have a few questions and I'd like you to answer them truthfully. I won't judge.
- Would you allow your three-year-old son/daughter to attend a playdate without you? Is that too young or am I too neurotic?
- If you have a young child, would you allow him/her to attend a playdate where the only adult supervision is a male? Be honest.
Related:
Sex And The Suburbs
