Admittedly, my 5 year-old daughter had just had a tantrum loud and long and ridiculous enough to warrant us never being allowed to return. Admittedly, I did have to abandon said child, solo, to the horror the rest of the patrons, while I took my recently toilet trained second daughter to the toilet. Admittedly, I was terribly pregnant and hormonal at the time. However, my visit to a local kid-friendly cafe really got me questioning the craze. Is the kid-friendly cafe actually a mother’s worst nightmare?
Kid-friendly cafés are popping up everywhere and they are incredibly popular. They are more than just babycinos and colouring. They boast elaborate play areas, indoor and outdoor spaces dedicated to entertaining little ones; sandpits, mud kitchens, cubby houses, books and toys. They have fabulous foodie children’s menus, finally acknowledging that little tastebuds are often more sophisticated than the chicken nuggets and chips advocates of the world would have us believe. Children play happily with their little friends. They include other, smaller children who don’t have anyone to play with. They build impressive towers and quickly forgive as the wannabe gymnast at the next table knocks it over as he skilfully dismounts the table at his mother’s request. They say please and thank you, chew with their mouths closed and eat their greens. All the while their yummy mummies tuck into restorative turmeric lattes and chia bowls, (smiling that smile which only presents after a particularly healthy bowel movement)and have uninterrupted conversation with their yummy mummy friends. They feel refreshed, replenished and raring to go. The kid-friendly café is a fabulous concept. Full credit to the pioneers and their many disciples.
But that kid-friendly cafe is otherworldly. In the same way that parents were never better parents than when they were parenting hypothetical children, so too is the reality of the kid-friendly cafe somewhat less idyllic.
Aside from my own aforementioned woes, I have, over my almost 6 years of parenting, been party to many an undesirable parenting moment at a variety of cafes. I’ve looked on with varying degrees of disgust as mums have attempted to remove smashed avocado from rattan chairs, sandwich crusts from floors, chips from shoes, play dough from hair and nappy overflow from carpet. Worse still, there are plenty of mums who see this level of courtesy as exemplary only and are delighted to leave this kind of mess to the staff, being sure to pile high the vegemite stained wet wipes and snotty tissues with leftover sausage roll on plates. Well-intentioned mums allow their turmeric lattes to go cold while they cut up toast soldiers and mop up babycino with serviettes and after the fifth attempt to finish that conversation about sleep deprivation-‘ Johnny, give the boy back his truck!’, they draw their own conclusions and quickly down an espresso or two before heading off to face the day.
So, what then is the attraction? Surely the chaos and mess is just too reminiscent of home to justify a special trip to a cafe as a paying customer. I was resolute that I would never again face the embarrassment of an epic battle of wills situation. I vowed never to return to one of these god-forsaken places. Wouldn’t you rather the discretion of an at-home tantrum?
Nope, apparently not. And I too, at the first hint of an invitation, returned without a second thought. It turns out we like airing our dirty parenting laundry. When other people’s kids cry, scream, bite, snatch, spill and only eat the icing we smile, knowingly, and give reassuring looks to their parents. We like to know that we are not the only ones. We are in this together. We are all doing our best in this gig, raising our children respectfully in an environment where, rightly or wrongly, the kid is king. Perhaps the kid-friendly cafe is our village. Or maybe just an escape from those judgey judgey non-breeders, you know the ones with the fashionable beards or floaty skirts with bare midriffs drinking their deconstructed lattes, who stare at you when your kids are noisy then look horrified when you pass them an ipad? Or the blue-rinse brigade with their dirty looks and equally welcome offerings of advice. (Yes, that’s right Betty, things were different in your day. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?) At the very least, kid-friendly cafes are a place where we don’t have to crawl about on floors of disabled toilets to change our littlies. It turns out we like it when we can drink luke-warm beverages that other people make and tidy away. And with all the best intentions in the world, we like to see that we’re not the only ones who opted for the brekkie burger instead of the bloody chia bowl.
mrsmixalot 