Daddy was off today, it’s very rare that he gets a weekday off or any day lately for that matter. He was supposed to be doing a bit of work in the house but with nap times and school runs it never happened. So with an afternoon to kill we let the big kid decide how she wanted to spend it. And of course, she gleefully said she would like to go to the balls.
For those of you who don’t know I hate the balls or soft play or whatever you want to bloody call it. The coffee. The food. The smell. The fact that my kids are those kids. Just everything. Soft play gives me the rage.
Anyways, we arrived at the car park of the soft play and it looks like it’s closed down. And the tears and the screams and the ‘will ye
bleeding calm down it’s bloody open’.
I’m soon robbed of €19.50 for three kids. Who even comes up with these prices? Almost a score for a wobbler, a toddler and a six-year-old. Seriously.
For a toddler to spend the guts of an hour in this car.
For a wobbler who would rather push chairs around and loiter around people’s tables begging for food instead of playing in the free for all under three’s area. Oh and not forgetting about the big who moaned, whined and bitched cause there was nobody to play with.
Then this happened and no, it’s not curry.
Then this happened.
And that’s when I decided we will never be going the balls again.
Related: 7 Things I Hate About Soft Play.