Growing up in a mainly girl family, I didn’t think much about what the boys were doing when they went to each other’s houses. If I had stopped to think about it, I probably would have imagined that the seven-year-old boys dressed up Ken Barbie dolls and had them throw surprise parties for each other. Or that they played house where, as the dads, they disappeared for hours at a time then came home and asked the boy who got stuck being Mom, “What’s for dinner?” Or maybe that they got into the Dad’s closet and walked around the house wearing all his different pairs of shoes.
I mean, what else could there possibly be to a play date?
Now I am the mom of all boys, and I have an insider’s POV of what goes on at little boys’ play dates. These same boys on whom the first grade girls have crushes, the ones they giggle at, the ones they whisper about to their girl friends. These same boys whose unborn children have already been accounted for and named by various first grade girls.
Girls, take note:
The play date started with V’s friend Gabe coming up, smelling, his butt, giving him bunny ears, and then running off to play. V had no clue Gabe was even there yet.
Then they launched into a game of Pokemon, which sounds like this:
“…and then Reshiram comes and goes KABLOOEY, but then you join Team Rocket because you didn’t know they were bad…”
“Yeah, and then Ash comes and rescues me…”
“But Team Rocket puts you in a Poke Ball…”
”But I escape and go WHAM-O WHAM-O on Team Rocket’s head…”
”Yeah! WHAM-O BLAM-O!”
The baby toys are all hijacked and used as Pokemon props, which looks like this:
(Yes, those are more bunny ears. Bunny ears never cease to be funny, no matter how many times they show up in one play date.)
The baby toys are quite appropriate, as the boys spend much of the play date talking in a baby voice: “Me hungwy. Me want food now. Gabwiel hungwy too.”
Once they were all Pokemoned out, the boys went out to play in the pool, in the rain. They kept chanting, “MORE HOT WATER, MORE HOT WATER” in their attempt to turn our swimming pool into a hot tub.
(I apologize for the giant penises sticking up from our pool. They’re supposed to be for a game of ring toss, but the boys just like to squish them down and watch them pop up. I’m not sure what the girls’ swimming pools have sticking out of them.)
There was nudity. Plenty of nudity. (No pictures, sorry!)
Then they got into the leis. Here is a picture I snapped of some unwitting girl’s future husband:
At the end of the play date, instead of saying “goodbye” or hugging or whatever else people do to at the end of play dates, they ran around the house doing armpit farts.
All in all, the play date was wild. It was loud. It was crazy and hilarious and unpredictable.
And it looked like way more fun than any play date I ever had growing up.