Soft Play

It was Dad’s idea.

Which should have been the first warning.

“I’m taking them to soft play,” he announced, with the confidence of a man who had not yet experienced what “them” in soft play truly meant.

Mum looked up slowly from her laptop.

“All three?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

Mum leaned back in her chair. “Good.”

Dad blinked. “Good?”

“You need to see it,” she said. “Before the party.”

Barry and Marmaduke froze.

“…Party?” Barry said.

“Yes,” Mum replied. “Albert’s soft play party. In a couple of weeks.”

Marmaduke gasped. “A PARTY?”

Barry grinned. “WITH CAKE?”

“Yes,” Mum said. “But your dad needs to understand what could go wrong.”

Dad laughed. “How bad can it be?”

Mum and Alfie both looked at him.

In silence.

Long, meaningful silence.

The journey was quick.

Too quick.

Barry bounced in his seat. “I’m going to climb everything.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Me too.”

Alfie adjusted his seatbelt. “I will observe.”

Dad smiled. “It’ll be fun.”

Alfie glanced at him. “…You say that now.”

Soft play, from the outside, looked harmless.

Bright colours.

Happy signs.

The distant sound of… screaming.

“Sounds lively,” Dad said.

Alfie stepped out of the car. “That is not lively. That is chaos.”

Inside, it was louder.

Much louder.

Children running.

Balls flying.

Parents sitting with coffee, staring into the middle distance like they had seen things.

Barry’s eyes lit up.

“…This is AMAZING.”

Marmaduke gasped. “It’s like a giant playground!”

Alfie nodded. “With no rules.”

“There are rules,” Dad said.

A child ran past, climbed a slide the wrong way, and disappeared into a tunnel.

“…Very few rules,” Dad corrected.

“Shoes off,” Dad said.

Shoes came off. Socks stayed on.

Barry ran.

Marmaduke followed.

Alfie walked.

Carefully.

Cautiously.

Like a small, sensible inspector entering a very unsafe building.

Within seconds, Barry and Marmaduke had disappeared.

Gone.

Vanished.

Absorbed into the colourful maze.

Dad blinked.

“…They were just here.”

Alfie nodded. “They have entered the system.”

“The system?”

“The tunnels.”

Dad looked up at the structure.

Layers.

Slides.

Nets.

Hidden corners.

“…Right.”

Dad sat down.

Took a sip of coffee.

Relaxed.

For approximately six seconds.

Then—

“MR BRAAAAANNND!”

Marmaduke’s voice.

Echoing.

Panicked.

Somewhere inside the structure.

Dad froze.

“That sounds like distress,” Alfie said calmly.

“That is distress,” Dad replied, already standing.

“Where are you?” Dad called.

“In here!” Marmaduke shouted.

“That’s not helpful!”

“I’m stuck!”

Dad looked at Alfie.

Alfie nodded. “You have to go in.”

Dad looked at the structure again.

Then at the tiny entrance.

Then back at Alfie.

“…I don’t think that’s designed for adults.”

Alfie folded his arms. “Marmaduke is stuck.”

Dad sighed.

“Of course he is.”

And so—

Dad went in.

At first, it was fine.

A bit tight.

A bit awkward.

But manageable.

“Coming!” Dad called.

He crawled.

Turned.

Adjusted.

Tried not to think about how long it had been since he’d done anything like this.

“Dad?” Marmaduke’s voice echoed.

“Yes!”

“I’m here!”

“Where is here?”

“…Tunnel.”

“Great,” Dad muttered.

He turned a corner.

Found Marmaduke.

Sitting.

Looking slightly worried.

Barry was next to him.

Of course he was.

“What happened?” Dad asked.

Marmaduke pointed. “I went up… and then I couldn’t get down.”

Barry nodded. “It’s tricky.”

Alfie’s voice echoed from outside. “I told you not to climb too high.”

“Not helping, Alfie!” Dad shouted.

“Right,” Dad said. “We’ll just turn around.”

He tried.

He really did.

But the tunnel was… smaller than expected.

His knee hit something.

His elbow hit something else.

He twisted.

Stopped.

Paused.

“…This is fine,” he said.

It was not fine.

“Can you move?” Marmaduke asked.

“Yes,” Dad said.

He tried again.

Nothing.

“I am… slightly stuck.”

Barry grinned. “You’re stuck!”

“Yes, Barry,” Dad said. “I am aware.”

Outside, Alfie sighed.

“I knew this would happen.”

A nearby parent looked over.

“First time?” they asked.

Alfie nodded. “Yes.”

The parent gave a sympathetic smile. “Good luck.”

Inside the tunnel, things were not improving.

Dad shifted.

Carefully.

Slowly.

“…Okay,” he said. “New plan.”

“What’s the plan?” Barry asked.

“I don’t know yet.”

“That’s not a good plan,” Barry said.

“I am aware.”

Marmaduke looked concerned. “Are we going to live here now?”

“No,” Dad said quickly.

Barry considered this. “We could build a house.”

“No.”

“We have tunnels.”

“No.”

“We could have snacks.”

“No.”

At that exact moment, a staff member appeared below.

Looking up.

Calm.

Experienced.

The kind of calm that suggested this was not their first “adult stuck in soft play” situation.

“Everything alright up there?” they called.

Dad hesitated.

“…Yes.”

Barry leaned over. “No.”

The staff member nodded knowingly.

“Okay,” they said. “Let’s get you out.”

Dad felt a small wave of relief.

“Thank you.”

“First,” the staff member said, “you need to stop trying to turn around.”

Dad froze.

“…I am trying to leave.”

“Yes,” the staff member said, “but you need to go forward.”

Dad blinked.

“Forward?”

“Yes.”

“There is no forward.”

“There is always a forward.”

Barry pointed. “There’s a slide.”

Dad looked.

There was a slide.

A small one.

A very small one.

“…I cannot go down that.”

“You can,” the staff member said.

“I really can’t.”

“You can.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Yes.”

“This is designed for children.”

“Yes.”

“…I’m not convinced.”

Alfie called up, “Just do it, Dad.”

“Easy for you to say!” Dad replied.

After a long pause—

Dad sighed.

“Right.”

He adjusted.

Moved forward.

Carefully.

Very carefully.

Reached the slide.

Paused again.

“This is undignified,” he muttered.

“Just slide!” Barry said.

And then—

He did.

He slid.

Not gracefully.

Not smoothly.

But effectively.

Down.

Out.

Free.

There was a moment of silence.

Then—

Marmaduke clapped.

Barry cheered. “YOU DID IT!”

Alfie nodded. “Acceptable recovery.”

The staff member smiled. “Happens all the time.”

Dad stood up.

Brushed himself off.

“…Never again.” (Later that evening, Mrs Brand would discover friction burns in places that would make Mr Brand wince for a few weeks to come.)

They sat down afterwards.

Barry eating crisps.

Marmaduke drinking juice.

Alfie observing.

Dad… trying not to think about the new pain he was in.

“Well,” Dad said slowly.

“That was educational.”

Alfie nodded. “What did you learn?”

Dad looked at the structure.

At the tunnels.

At the slide.

“…Never go in.”

Mum would have been proud.

On the way home, Barry leaned back.

“That was the best day ever.”

Marmaduke nodded. “Best ever.”

Alfie smiled slightly. “It was… interesting.”

Dad gripped the steering wheel.

“…We are declining Albert’s party.”

“No!” Barry shouted.

“No!” Marmaduke added.

Alfie looked at Dad. “We are not declining the party.”

Dad sighed.

“…Fine.”

But this time—

He knew.

Exactly.

What could go wrong?!