Mischief

My son has a new friend at daycare.

Or perhaps in place of "friend" I should use the term "co-conspirator" or "accessory to insanity".

My first glimpse of this child was that he was a lovely boy, quiet and contemplative. And thus, I thought he was likely too quiet for my rakehell of a son.

Not so much, it seems. They are each other's favourite person now. It's hard to tear them apart at the daycare. They are thrilled to see each other and sad to say goodbye. And there is much madness between them.

A few days ago, the boy's mom, whom I don't know well, emailed and asked for a playdate. I eagerly said sure, that sounds fun -- always nice to have another play friend. And maybe a new mom friend as well, who knows? She seemed nice.

I should have been warned when she said, as we were arranging it, that she hadn't done playdates in a year or more because her son was "too wild."

This morning my kid decided he didn't want to go. It took much cajoling and discussion and more discussion after that to convince him it would be a good idea. I also had to stay. Which is fine, I wasn't planning on just dropping him off.

At first the boys were at loose ends. Kinda running about wildly. Kinda crazy. Kinda looking for something appropriate to do together.

And then they found it. It was quiet. It was TOO quiet. But given the craziness before, she and I were inclined to let them play. We chatted. Our daughters (only about a year apart) eyed each other.

We made lunch. We called the boys. They didn't want to come. We shrugged it off. Meh. They can eat or not eat, whatever.

And then they came downstairs. And I noticed a tell-tale small brown smudge around my kid's mouth. I asked what he had eaten. I wasn't mad. I just asked. He dodged eye contact. "I don't want to tell you." he said.

I looked at the other mom. She would likely know what was in her kid's room. She looked puzzled.

And then we noticed that the advent calendar, previously in the living room, was gone.

The chocolate-filled advent calendar.

For the first time in my life, I ended a playdate with an offer to monetarily recompense her for my son's damage.

Sigh.