This is how I managed to pass the responsibility on the girl to another parent for an entire lunch • And also: some sad reflections on the tooth fairy

• Illustration: Ze'ev Engelmayer

1 My cell phone rang a few minutes after the kids returned from their summer camp. A number I didn't know.

"Hello, I wanted to invite Naama to PlayDate."

"Hello. What? Where?"

"To Playdate, with Abigail."

"Ah, Abigail's mother, what sounds? What is it, Jimburi's name? I thought it was forbidden."

The silence from the other side made it clear to me that I once again failed to understand a basic parental code.

"Playdate is when ..."

"Oh, PlayDate, of course. No, I know what PlayDate is, I just thought you said something else."

"No".

I admit, at that point, I still didn't know the rules of PlayDay in depth, but in my keen sense I realized that I was passing on responsibility to half of the children in charge of another parent for an entire afternoon, with no immediate commitment on my part, and it seemed like a pretty lucrative business. Of course I had no idea what kind of twisted maze I was going to put myself in.

When the couple came home and heard what it was, I began to get a first idea. "Just like that, she called and you drove Naama to her?" she asked.

"Not good?"

"No, it doesn't work that way. It has to be set in advance."

"Yesterday we did not make a pre-order when we threw the girl at Daria."

"It's something else. They are our neighbors and friends. Playdate needs to be set in advance."

"But what is PlayDate? Isn't that another word for 'going to company'?"

She smiled forgivingly at me. "No, it doesn't work that way. Besides, it was now our turn to host Abigail, she hosted last time."

"But she invited Naama to her," I protested.

"Did she use the word PlayDate?"

"Yes".

"Well, then you were supposed to tell her, 'No, it's our turn now.'

"Why, because she used the magic word? And what now, Naama would be allowed to call her tomorrow, or we would have to wait two days after the playdate so as not to look stressed? Boy, some nonsense."

"You'll also just say you didn't send Wetsap after half an hour to see that everything was fine."

"Obviously not, the girl here is playing in a house on the other side of the street. I didn't leave her in South Hebron."

"It doesn't matter, that's the way it is."

I tried to glean some more details about this new and most wonderful world. At first it sounded to me like another American practice that we are mimicking in a pale way, but in the end I realized - it is a custom that fits perfectly here, and is not for children at all, but for us. As a matter of fact, this is about replacing babysitting services, minus the need to spend money and admit to ourselves that we bought hourly childcare to be a little without them. For such a deal it is worth having other people's children at home, and also sharing your children with activities whose name conjures up things that are less appropriate for ages 6-4.

These services pay off mainly because it doesn't matter if there are two kids running around you in the living room or four, in each case you won't have a moment of peace of mind. But when you have zero children in the living room, you can find yourself a little quiet. And in a world where we're thrown from chore to chore like a sock in a huge washer, it's nice to know that in two days, 6:30 pm to 4:00 pm, a small island of quiet awaits you. Without any commitment.

Just don't forget sometime in the first hour to send a wetsup that supposedly checks that everything is fine, that they have no idea that when your turn comes to host, you intend to throw their child in front of a screen.

2 I don't remember ever selling Naama some kind of tooth fairy, and my partner also claims she never did anything like that. But as soon as she felt a slight oscillation of her first milk tooth, the girl solemnly declared that she was expecting a visit from the Tooth Fairy. "I want the fairy to bring me a son's doll, sunglasses and unicorn pajamas."

"It's too much, Mami. It won't get under the pillow."

"Okay, she can put me in a bag by the bed."

I don't remember my parents ever talking to me about the tooth fairy. I seem to know this myth only through mentions in American films that I saw a little later, and that I managed to live without it. I mean, I have quite a few problems and everything, but I don't think they necessarily have a connection to the tooth fairy.

I told my couple that we should say to Naama that there is no such thing as a tooth fairy - after all, I teach her about the cosmos and the atmosphere, so it's better not to fill her head with this kind of nonsense. She convinced me that the girl had already developed expectations, and we had no choice.

So we bought her everything she asked for. Just what - that milk tooth insisted on clinging to. Naama, in her keen senses, had already begun to make sure that everything was working according to plan. "The Tooth Fairy already bought me what I asked for?"

"I think so, she sees that the tooth is about to fall."

"Exactly what I wanted?"

"Can be".

One day I caught her dealing with the tooth in front of the mirror.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

"Nothing. Say, the pajamas she brings to me is really the unicorn?"

"Yes, but it will only bring it to you if the tooth falls alone."

Only I am missing. The girl has already developed such a prey on the gifts that she is still tying the tooth to the door handle and slamming it.

At the end, it happened. The girl had dinner with us, panicked completely because she gave a bite to the rocking tooth, cried that the tooth hurts her and refused to open her mouth. Finally, when she opened, it became clear that the tooth was already plunging down her throat.

It took a little too minutes, but in the end she calmed down (at least this time she had a reason, the last time she cried because "Oddi was looking at my plate"). At night we placed the gifts of the tooth fairy by her bed. When she woke up in the morning, she expressed satisfaction with her pajamas and sunglasses, but the coop doll was not the kind she wanted. I tried to explain to her that during such a period, she had to settle for something, but I squeezed in one more doll.

Because this tooth fairy cost us something like a root canal, I told Naama that the fairy brings gifts only on the first two teeth. True, it's a comforting myth that helps kids overcome fear, but Dad has his fears, too, and two or three teeth like that, I'll have to tell the girl the truth - that toothache is independent, and because of the situation, it's hard for her kids to worry.

shishabat@israelhayom.co.il