"I hate ball pools!" declares Mrs Bennet

Wednesday, April 8 09

There were few things Mrs Bennet disliked but those on her list were loathed with a passion. And ball pools were at the top, followed closely by emptying tea bags from a tea pot.
It was the Easter Holidays. Mr Bennet was meeting someone somewhere in Milan. Mrs Bennet was meeting a fellow mum at her favourite place – the local ball pool. A place she normally avoided like the plague particularly during school holidays. But as it was a birthday party for her friend’s two-year-old, a favourite playmate to Spag and Bol, Mrs Bennet had said yes she would come along. She also knew very well that Miss Bennet Numbers One, Two and Three would be delighted at the prospect of running wild and sliding down death slides. Having spent the night on a cold carpet-less floor sandwiched between the twin’s cots, Mrs Bennet was feeling rather tired, grumpy and lacking in patience. She would quite happily have curled up in a ball in her garden shed. But as that still didn’t have any electrics and therefore no heat, Mrs Bennet didn’t think she had any option but to endure a few hours of high pitched squeals and screams.
Between them Mrs Bennet and her friend had nine children – eight girls and one boy - so it proved quite an expensive visit, and that was without the essential coping fuel of Mr Decaf Latte or Mr Cappuccino. The minute she walked through the doors into a cacophony of shouting, crying and piercing shrills; she knew why ball pools were number one on her Mrs Bennet Dislikes List. Miss Bennet Number Five immediately clung to her hip, threw her tiny arms around her neck and whimpered, making it extremely difficult to negotiate Miss Bennet Number Four round café chairs and tables to the toddler play area. Having been a late walker, it was in fact the first time Bol, alias Miss Kezia Bennet, had been properly introduced to a ball pool. A yellow plastic ball hit her on the chin, and like a ten pin, she wobbled over, quickly grasping her mother’s leg as an anchor in the moving sea of coloured balls. Miss Rosie Bennet, slightly more confident, allowed herself to be lowered into the sea, but feeling out of her depth, immediately shouted to be rescued.
Meanwhile, Miss Bennet Number Three, refusing to take off her glasses and proving she was now a big five, literally flew down the death slide – something Mrs Bennet had never plucked up courage to do. Her children took her to places and heights she never dreamt she’d go. But even though they’d taken her to the edge on several occasions, it was up to her whether she actually wanted to throw herself off. May be when she was 40 she’d do it! She had been up in a balloon, parasailed, rock climbed and abseiled in the past so she wasn’t really a wimp. And she’d just promised another female friend, who turned 40 a few hours before she did that she would go to Alton Towers with her, without children. Knowing how adventurous and adrenaline hungry her mate was, she did wonder whether her pelvic floor would recover. Having said that defying the law of gravity might do it good!
The older two Miss Bennets were lost in the medley of ropes and bodies. But they soon appeared, pink-faced and frazzled; one complaining of slide burn, the other complaining about her sister. She decided to help matters by entering the noise hub, and thinking Spag might like a ride on a bumpy slide, proceeded to push and pull the chubby babe up through holes to the top. It helped one complaining daughter laugh. Clutching on to a slightly scared Miss Bennet Number Four, Mrs Bennet proceeded to descend, unaware the slide had been polished extra well this morning. Miss Bennet Number Two watched in awe as her mother literally took off as she went down the first bump, missed the second bump altogether and landed with a thud on the third, thankfully with Spag still in her arms. Shaken but not stirred, Miss Bennet Number Four looked shocked but smiled at the ordeal. Shaken and stirred, Mrs Bennet, somehow managed to get up, rubbed her sore back and vowed not to do that again - well not today anyway.
Within half an hour emotion was rife. Both twins were crying, the middle Miss Bennet whining her siblings didn’t want to play with her and Miss Bennet Number One was still wincing and rubbing her poorly arm. The four children belonging to her friend were however happily running about and thoroughly enjoying themselves without a moan between them. Mrs Bennet longed for her octopus to come and wipe eyes, soothe wounds and lift them all out of the ball pool and transport them to a place of peace, calm and joy.
Two hours later, the invisible octopus arrived. Four children and a mother were relieved. Miss Bennet Number Two was not and blamed everyone else for pulled her out of the ball jungle before she was ready. Mrs Bennet breathed a sigh of relief, strapped the Miss Bennets in their seats, and put her head on the steering wheel. She then sent a text to her husband, who was child-free in Italy.
“I HATE BALL POOLS! Just thought you might like to know!” she tapped into her phone. After eating a waiter-served Italian meal, accompanied by proper adult conversation, when sentences were finished and food was enjoyed hot, Mr Bennet sent his thoughts on the subject.
“Oh come on, all that screaming and noise, you love it really!”
She did not reply. Instead as Miss Bennet Number Three was due to return to Mrs Bennet’s torture chamber on Saturday for a party, she made up her mind that Mr Bennet would be taking their daughter. He could also remove every tea bag for the next decade as his punishment for flying abroad to a different country three weeks running.