Back in the day, before my uterus was stretched beyond recognition and my life became noisier, messier, and cuddlier than I ever thought possible, playcentres made me shudder.
Not because of the masses of children. Oh no. I've always loved kids - doting big sister became busy baby sitter, became camp counsellor, became nanny, became teacher - being around kids is what I do. (Some might say because I am on the same intellectual wavelength...I say, don't insult the children).
No, I'll admit I recoiled from the idea of playcentres because the only ones I had seen were a bit grubby. A bit dingy, without any natural light, and with dubious ball pits for the babies. I wasn't entirely keen on the idea of my precious sprogs running around on sticky carpet or hurling themselves into enclosed curly slides, ending the ride by kissing the dirty mat at the bottom.
However, being a rational (yes, you heard me. Rational. Moving right along...) person, I have come to see the value of a good playcentre. We are lucky enough to have two centres within 15 minutes of home, both of which we have visited for birthday parties, emergency coffees, and desperately rainy days. Both have excellent sectioned-off areas for babies, are clean and well-presented, and offer more than hot chips on the menu.
On Friday, I had organised to meet two girlfriends of mine at Planet Kids for a morning playdate. Casey, the uber-housewife extraordinaire of Milkncookies fame, and Michelle, much-envied overseas traveller. Now see, we were all looking forward to the day, because years and years ago, the three of us had worked together in Shell's parents' newsagency. In actual fact, Shell and I had spent the majority of our teenage years together. We went to the same high school; shared a swimming coach and trained together (although she was by far and away one of the best swimmers I have ever seen - I was Mrs. McAverage, coming up the pool lane spluttering chlorine...); and when we worked together in the newsagency, we were regularly mistaken for sisters.
Since Shell has lived in Saudi Arabia for several years now, we had arranged this playdate months ago when she planned a visit home to Australia. Which meant that when Casey's little boy developed an ear infection on Thursday night and needed to see the doctor on Friday morning, our plans were going to go ahead, regardless! Casey dropped her daughter off with us, so that she could at least have a run with Phoebalicious, and took her poor sick little bundle off to get some medi for his ears.
Shell and I spent several hours catching up amidst the hubbub of a playcentre filled to capacity. It was so lovely to see her - incredible to think that I had not seen her for such a long time, but so grateful to have the chance to see her while she was home. Thank goodness she was there too - I kept losing sight of Jack and Phoebe in the swarms of children herbing around, and Maisie had developed an unhealthy obsession for the slide. If it weren't for Shell, I wouldn't have known which way to run!
Seeing Michelle was the best part of my day. But I can tell you this right now - I will not be gracing Planet Kids with my money again. The staff are always friendly and helpful, without a doubt. But any playcentre that cannot cope with a rainy day on a school holiday is not being run properly. That is their business. They should know what to do.
Firstly, I had to park a few blocks away and walk through mud and along a busy road with three small children (no footpaths, anyone?!?) because the playcentre's ten car spaces were full, and the marked parking on the road out the front is also a designated "No Standing" zone. I know this because the last time I went there, the friend I went with got a huge parking fine.
Once we had trekked our way to the entrance, we were charged $33 to enter. Bear with me. I may not be a genius, but the large, clear, laminated sign on the front counter said $8 for four years and over, $6 for three years old, $5 for one year old. 8 + 6 + 5 = $19, right?? The girl went to turn away, and I asked her how it possibly came to $33, thinking perhaps there was a holiday surcharge or an exorbitant fee for parents that was new?? Not only did she not see anything strange with the price she had just charged me, she could not work out how much to give back to me.
When Casey arrived to drop her daughter off, not only did she have to pay to bring her son in for five minutes, but they tried to overcharge her too! When she corrected them, the girl got confused and couldn't deal with it. She literally had to get another staff member to "deal with" Casey's refund. Considering Case had been standing at the entrance for ten minutes, waiting for someone to grace the cash register, this did not go down well.
The average wait for a coffee was 20 minutes. And when I say average, I mean I saw and heard people leaving because half an hour had passed, and their lattes had not appeared. There were tables with 'Reserved' written on them, yet there were not enough for the people actually present to sit down. Shell and I had to crouch in the babies' area for nearly an hour before we snatched a table. Even then, Phoebe had to sit on my knee because there were not enough chairs (and those reserved tables stayed empty the whole time I was there. Should have just sat there.)
No one told the ten year olds to get out of the babies' area. I eventually got my teacher's voice out of storage and used it on some pre-teens who were about to crush my daughter's fingers. They waited until I had retrieved the Mouse from underneath them, and then continued merrily on their way.
I got particular joy out of nuking the tiny hairs inside the noses of passers-by, when I had to stand for ten minutes at the front counter, screaming, flailing Mouse in arms, waiting for a plastic bag to contain the heinous mess inside her nappy. Her poo can stop a man in his tracks - on this particular day, I was glad.
Don't get me wrong - I felt sorry for the staff at this playcentre. They were overwhelmed by the sheer number of children that were given (overpriced) entry that day. There were not enough people to oversee the whole operation, and for that, I am sad. But it is their business to be prepared for rainy days. In the winter school holidays, they should have been ready for the deluge of money coming their way via crazed mummies needing their chai fix and kids devouring sandwiches and the jumping castle in equal measures.
But they weren't, and it wasn't pleasant. So on the next rainy day, I shall be visiting the other playcentre in our area. It's a bit smaller, and quite a bit older, but it is always a nice place to visit. The food is fresh and prompt, the coffee is hot and plentiful, and it has a dress-up corner that Phoebalina adores. The only drawback is that the Mouse can escape from the babies' corner...so I shall just have to teach her not to climb the enormous inflatable ladder into the kids' labyrinth. Or perhaps I might just don socks and join her - they can't kick me out for that, can they?
3 comments:
Gotta love a good playcentre on a rainy day. Like you, we have a nice clean one and a dodgy old grubby one. No competition as to where our $9 entry is going!
Oh Sal, you make me laugh - firstly by calling me an uber-housewifey... Pfft... As if!
Secondly by being so polite as to not mention how little patience I had for the poor twit who kept retreating from the counter because she was in her own words 'just too confused' to deal with adding up the entry fees!
Other than that though - my biggest gripe for the day was not being able to sit down and properly gasbag with you!!! Mich and I drove around for a while, catching up and even grabbed a bite - so thankfully Boofs ear infection did not prevent my catch up with her - but you my dear - you and I need a proper catch up.
Oh and you forgot to mention the little girl who wouldn't come near you while I was gone, not even for food!!! lol
that is exactly why I leave play centres to the Nanny. :-) Don't they count how many kids are in there and then shut the door, like a fire department max capacity or something? Sounds maddening.
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