Play Dating

I’m used to play dates. I have learned to call another mother and schedule blocks of time for my child to play with her child. I admit I’m not very good at it, preferring to send my child into the street to find a friend, but I manage. Now I’m faced with a new kind of play date: the coed kind.

My son came home from school excited about a certain girl whom he has liked for some time. I suspected she didn’t return the feelings, but they had been partners on a field trip that day. They sat together, giggled, and became more than friends.

“It’s a very exciting relationship,” my son said.

Before I could process these words he added a juicy tidbit.

“We’re going to either Hawaii or the Bahamas for our honeymoon so she can wear those coconuts on her nipples.”

Nipples?

“Sorry, breasts,” he said. Like that was better.

I wasn’t too concerned about the honeymoon thing until later that night when he asked me for my engagement ring. Yeah right – as soon as Daddy upgrades Mommy to the two carat. Things were moving too fast, but I had to appreciate the upside. The hormones causing my son to stink were the same ones making him like girls enough to want to lose the stink. When he showered, my entire house filled with the aroma of AXE body wash and spray. We’re working on less is more.

But when it came to information, I wanted more. But I had to play it cool.

“So what do you call it when you like someone and they like you back?” I asked when I tucked him in that night.

“The other kids call it being a couple,” he said. “But I don’t like that.”

Oh good.

“Because we’re still just getting into each other”

Huh?

“Can we have a play date?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

What is the protocol for that? Do I call the mom? Does he call the girl? Can I just send them to the playroom like I do with the rest of the neighborhood? Am I allowed to leave them alone?

I called the girl’s mother the next day and invited her over to play. The afternoon passed just as it would have if I’d had the neighbor boy over, except that I made a few more surprise visits to the playroom than usual. I had invited the little brother to come along to make it less of a date, which seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he and my daughter are engaged too.

“We’re getting married,” my daughter said, flashing me the Ring Pop the little boy had given her.

I guess this is something I’ll have to get used to. Time flies so quickly from play dates to dating, from dating to rings. Although I’d hoped my daughter would have held out for something better than a candy ring, I suppose it’s just as good as any. It’s big, it’s gaudy, and when you break up, you can eat it.