It's February half term

As the slanting snow came down, we headed towards the nearest Soft Play Centre.  The near full car park suggested that it was going to be busy and this was borne out by the noisy and frenetic atmosphere inside.  The lad at the counter underlined, in ink, the time that we were to leave (12:21) and tannoy announcements would be read out stating that an extra charge would be levied for anyone  staying beyond the designated hour and a half.

All of the tables appeared to have been taken up.  There was one where territory was marked with a bag and coat on the back of a chair.  I picked a chair on this table and the mother who had claimed this, didn’t return to it for another fifty minutes. ‘I don’t know whose it is’ she answered crossly to her child who was asking about a buggy (ours) in the proximity.  I didn’t look up to see if she was shooting me daggers.

Ed coped well with the busyess, noisiness and rampaging peers.  He was happy to play, sometimes with Sam, sometimes on his own.  But on one occasion he lifted a custard cream off someone’s plate. A lady was at the table at the time and looked on at this but didn’t intervene.  It looked like some deal where a table pays for a jug of squash and custard cream biscuits. When I saw him do it, I looked away and acted like I wasn’t his dad.  So many times when he’s done this kind of thing, I’ve gone forward, apologised, explained about his autism and boundaries then offered to recompense. But at this moment it seemed a chore – going forward, explaining away and offering to get new custard creams at the Play Centre’s counter.  The busy place with its rules and space premium had created a less generous atmosphere which had made my reactions less responsible.