Just Passing

34. Playdate

It's the first Saturday in December and we are finally having our meet-up with Kelsey and her parents–whose names really are Lisa and Megan, like I had thought–at the church's Holiday Craft Fair. Parking is easier than I had predicted. I figured that the church's lot would be overflowing with cars and that we might need to park on the street. But there are plenty of spaces, and as such, we're a little early for our playdate.

It's funny how similar getting ready for a first playdate feels to getting ready for a first date. Not that I've gone on a first date in well over a decade, but this morning sure brought back feelings. What should we wear? Should we coordinate? If we match too well, is that weird? Tiffany and I review possible topics for discussion. Are we up to date on LGBT news and policy? Anything big brewing in the news? We definitely don't want to sound uneducated or out of touch.

And I was so nervous about being late that we wound up showing up early. "I guess we could sit in the car for a bit," I suggest.

"Oh my God, it's freezing out. We're not sitting in the car. Let's just walk around the craft fair like everyone else," is Tiffany's much less anxious response.

"Yeah, I guess that makes much more sense," I admit, and then turn around from the driver's seat to look at the kids. "Okay, Spencer, do you remember who we are going to see today?"

"Kessy," he answers.

"Yes, Kelsey! Good."

"And what are you going to say when you see her?" Tiffany prompts.

"I say hi. I am so excited!" He beams.

We make sure the kids are fully bundled and then jostle them into their stroller. At least the snow flurries from a few days ago have melted, so it's easy enough to navigate the stroller past the occasional patch of ice and into the church building.

The entranceway is set up with a seating area with small tables and chairs. A double set of open doors leads to a large meeting room that has been transformed into a festive market. Snowflakes and Christmas trees and nativity scenes decorate the walls. Almost every stall sign is written out in red and green lettering and most also have a Santa hat painted on them next to the name.

The first stall is selling baked goods and the next one has knit scarves on display. Maybe I should buy my mom a scarf. I wonder if there is something train related to buy my dad, like a new hand-painted building to add to his set.

At first, the kids seem content with staring at all the colors and smiling at unfamiliar faces. Just taking in the sounds and smells. But soon we approach a stall with a variety of knick-knacks: stuffed animals, posed action figures, an assortment of plastic junk, rubber bouncy balls, boxes of Nerf guns that look like they have been opened and resealed.

"Out!" demands Spencer.

"Want!" cries Nora.

Tiffany and I both crouch down and try to sooth the kids into submission, but they continue to writhe and push against their 5-point restraint harnesses. Spencer throws off his hat. Nora kicks at the air, nearly contacting Tiffany's chest.

A passing middle-aged man gives me a knowing smile, lips crooked and eyebrow raised. The stall vendor, an older lady wearing a red wool sweater, eyes us with suspicion.

At the next stall, I see a couple turn to see what the commotion is all about. It's Lisa and Megan. And of course they are carrying a completely quiet and content Kelsey.

Sometimes I wonder about people with well-behaved children. Are they doing something different from us? Have stricter routines? Clearer boundaries? More consistent discipline? Or are they just lucky? I guess it boils down to nature versus nurture and how much control we actually have over shaping the little creatures we brought home from the hospital.