“Where is Jenessa?” I asked my daughter during
our usual Sunday phone chat. No conversation from Illinois to Oklahoma was
complete without a few words from our exuberant granddaughter.
“Oh, she’s on a playdate with Abby.”
“A playdate?”
“Yes, haven’t you heard of that?”
“Well, I’ve heard of children playing
with each other—what makes a playdate different?”
“It’s
a scheduled time of play. Abby’s mom calls and says, ‘Can Jenessa come to play next
Sunday at two?’ as opposed to Jenessa seeing Abby making mud pies in her yard
and asking if I can take her over there to play.”
“You mean you wouldn’t let Jenessa make
mud pies with Abby on the spur of the moment? You have to plan a mud-pie-making
date? Doesn’t that take all the fun out of playing?”
“Well, everyone is so busy; it’s easier
to plan things. Then we don’t interrupt people’s schedules.”
“Goodness gracious,” I said, “what is
society coming to when we have to plan our play?” I changed the subject before
my blood pressure went to the moon. My daughter promised to have Jenessa call
us when she returned.
After we hung up, I found my calendar. “Phone
date with Jenessa” I wrote in the Sunday square. Then I decided to see if this
newfangled system could simplify other parts of our lives.
“Are we going to church this evening?” I asked
my husband.
He gave me a hard stare. “Of course we
are; I’m the preacher.”
I added, “Churchdate” to Sunday.
“Would you like supper tonight, honey?”
Another stare, this time a worried one. “Yes,
why do you ask?”
“Just keeping up with the times,” I
said. “But that’s all we can fit in today. If you want to play after church, you’ll
have to buy me a bigger calendar.”
Are you a playdate Planner? Or a spontanous Sally?
