The Great Soft Play Debate


WIFE: “It’s dirty. And I don’t mean somebody has pooed kind of dirty, I mean chronic case of sticky hands, snotty noses and suspect smears of jellified liquid kind of dirty. ”

HUSBAND: “So is our house”.

WIFE: “And it’s expensive. The snacks are overpriced and basic. It’s become social etiquette to drink hot drinks whilst your kids are playing … but there’s never any decent cake!”

HUSBAND: “The Boy and I have youth on our sides; we don’t need the false energy from caffeine thank you very much. And no clue about social etiquette because I’m rough as toast. We do occasionally buy a soft drink and a chocolate bar because it’s a treat and, dare I say, a choice! No one’s forcing us.”

WIFE: “I never want to have to rescue my child from the climbing tunnel. You know, that bit at the top which gets narrower and darker and is far too small for an adult but the kids always seem to get stuck in? And I remember being stuck in there as a kid … I do not want to revisit my past!”

HUSBAND: “I had no idea you went through such a traumatic experience as a child. I’m a neglectful husband and I’m prepared to pay for all of the Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (about two sessions I reckon) to help you work through it. And while you’re there, the Boy and I will go to a soft-play and climb through that tunnel a thousand times in your honour.”

WIFE: There seems to be an accumulation of children wired on sugar at these places. Step away from the sugary drinks, people, I do not need that kind of energy in my life.”

HUSBAND: “When The Boy and I are there, it’s usually on a quiet morning and we have the run of the place. There’s always that one hyper (big) kid running riot, but I usually calm down after half an hour.”

WIFE: “Well there’s nothing better than the great outdoors.”

HUSBAND: “Maybe, for about 3 weeks of the year. For the rest of the time, it’s grey, wet and cold. I’m off to Soft Play!”

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