Why must triple-kid playdates end in tears?
Can’t blame my one and only for saying “Yes” when Girl Child’s friend from up the block calls and asks if it’s okay to come over. Minerva spends less time with the Wrenmead Street pup she-wolves, and by reflex we welcome play dates.
Today, however, GC’s friend from across the street, like her a six-year-old, just showed up. The girls want to watch part of The Chronicles Of Narnia before dinnertime.
And now lookit how sweet. The girls scootch together like fuzzy ducklings on the couch, all nestled in blankets and happy and calm. And, do not let us forget, low maintenance. Daddy likes.
Comes the call from Girl Three, and we got us a train wreck. Strife and fussing and maybe parental intervention and peacekeeping.
Does this mean the inbound girl makes trouble? No, she’s terrific, as is the girl already here. Girl Child considers both her best friends (a non-exlusive status), and I have fondness for both and count them as VIP Platinum Play Dates.
Talking two here and only two. And there’s no such thing as two plus one, man, it’s two against. Somebody feels left out and hurt.
Too often – in Minerva’s and my book – our GC becomes the aggrieved party. She's also something of a fuss diva, who we’re pretty sure actually enjoys her tragedies and tears. And, as an only kid, she has trouble with sharing attention and interkid psychological combat.
Stuff we need to work on, for sure, but off subject. Three girls are just a pain.
It begins. After Number Three shows up the girls revisit the choice of movie, vote repeatedly and fail to agree. Then once, twice, three times GC comes to her mother or me and airs hurts, imagined and also real. Little witches love to raise invisible welts. Whatever, it’s on GC to cowboy up and go downstairs and work the damn thing out.
No full-on screeching and crying this time, but still so annoying, so unnecessary.
The original play date’s mama rings the bell.
“They were great,” I say. She knows I’m lying.
Truth, it would have been great. Should have been.
Next time Minerva will say “No” to Number Three. Do not doubt it for a minute, because she says so. Not so easy, I know, because I’m new to “No” myself. On the other hand, look how “Yes” just screwed up the afternoon.
Help. Pater has multiple Qs: Is the three-girl play date impossible? Is there a solution? Must we avoid it? Is this just a girl thing? Are girls really nastier, only in nicer ways, than boys?
Title males fail to communicate in mini-drama sung, both parts, by Stevens circa 1970, in musical prime and not yet renamed Son of Allah. Get into driving acoustic, vocal range, emotion, and forgive spoiled youth whining at father, “I have to go.” Go already. Of course, Dad will have to pay for the trip.