The Politics of Play Dates

Dear Laney,

You love Cedar. You talk about her when she's not around in gleeful tones. When I mention going to visit her, you clap. You refer to her as, "my best friend."

And yet - like clockwork - this is how every play date goes:

THE FIRST THIRD

I like to think of this as the Krystal and Alexis phase. There's pushing and shoving and "No, 'at's mine"ing. You fuss over the same item, which is usually something completely insane, like the lid to a toy or a specific Lego when you're both standing three feet from a 500+ piece bucket of other Legos. I end up a nervous wreck, because I just know that you're going to rip off Cedar's earrings, and she's going to grab you by the shoulder pads and toss you into a public fountain, all because you're both in love with Blake - I mean, the yellow Lego.

THE MIDDLE THIRD

photos by Cedar's Mom

What are you talking about? I LOVE to share! I love Cedar! I love playing! This is the most fun ever! Look, Mommy! We're running around a log! A LOG!!! DID YOU SEE US?? A LOG !!!!! The world is an awesome place to be.

THE FINAL THIRD

It's closing time. You've had a few too many, and everything is making you a little weepy. Real tears spring to your eyes as you sob, "I just wan' go home." So I gather up your things and pour you into a cab - I mean, the Subaru.

You sleep the whole way home, and then shake yourself awake in our driveway just in time to ask, "Hey, where Cedar go?" and start counting the days 'til we can do it all again.

I try to warn your dad that junior high school will be just like this plus a heaping sackful of hormones, but I think he's in denial.

Love,

Mom

P.S. In case you're wondering where your brother is in all this: