Why Having A “Feral” Toddler In Your Friend Group Is Hard (And What To Do About It)
I’d just finished mopping the kitchen floor and arranging a bowl of goldfish on the coffee table when the door banged open. Milo bolted past his mom Sarah, socks slipping on my newly clean hardwood, and launched himself onto the couch before I could even say hi. My iced coffee, sitting right where I’d left it five minutes earlier, toppled off the edge, seeping into the woven rug I’d bought three months prior. Milo didn’t pause. He dumped the entire bowl of goldfish onto the rug next to the coffee, scrambled up my bookshelf, and knocked my pothos off its shelf before Sarah even got her shoes off. By the time I registered what was happening, he’d slipped out the back door and was yanking on the gate latch that leads to the street. I dropped my half-eaten toast and sprinted after him, catching the hood of his dinosaur sweatshirt two steps from the sidewalk.
Sarah was right behind me, face bright red, already apologizing so fast she was tripping over her words. She reached for Milo, who squirmed out of her grasp and ran laughing toward the backyard playset, and I saw her jaw tighten. I knew that look. I’d had that look, five years ago when my oldest was 2 and would climb out of grocery carts, take other kids’ snacks, and run straight for parking lots at the park. Back then, I stopped coming to playdates for three months because I was convinced every other mom in the group was whispering that I couldn’t control my kid.
After I grabbed a towel to soak up the coffee, we sat down on the back steps while the kids chased each other around the swing set. Sarah told me she’d almost bailed on the playdate that morning. The week before, at a different group get-together, another mom had pulled her aside and asked if she’d tried “more consistent time-outs” for Milo’s behavior. She’d gone home and cried in the car after, because she’d already tried time-outs, sticker charts, holding his hand the whole time, nothing slowed him down for long. The pediatrician said he’s just a high-activity, sensory-seeking toddler, that his impulse control is developing right on track for a 2-and-a-half-year-old, he just moves faster than most kids his age. But that doesn’t stop the other parents from side-eyeing her when he climbs on the picnic table or takes a toy from another kid.
It’s true, having that kid in your friend group is hard. If you’re hosting, you’re mentally prepping for messes and close calls before anyone even shows up. If you’re just another parent there, it’s easy to get frustrated when your kid’s carefully built block tower gets knocked over for the third time, or when you have to pause your conversation to help corral a runaway toddler. No one’s saying it’s easy, and it’s okay to feel annoyed sometimes. The mistake most of us make, though, is assuming the mess is a failure of parenting, not just a feature of that specific kid’s development.
After that playdate at my house, the group made a few small changes that have made everything way easier. First, we adjust the space instead of expecting Milo to adjust to our perfectly tidy houses. Now, when we host, I move all breakable decor and my good candles to the top shelf of the closet 10 minutes before everyone arrives. I lock the side gate to the street before anyone gets out of the car. We keep all food and drinks on the kitchen counter, out of climbing reach, instead of setting them out on low tables. It takes 10 extra minutes, and it’s way less work than mopping coffee off a rug or chasing a kid down the street after.
Second, we take turns redirecting instead of waiting for Sarah to fix every problem. If Milo climbs the outside of the slide at the park and I’m standing closest, I just walk over and say “That looks fun! Wanna go race me to the other swing set?” instead of standing back and waiting for Sarah to handle it. If he dumps out my kid’s bin of cars, I just wait until he’s moved on to something else and pick it up later, instead of making a big deal out of it in front of everyone. No one has to be the bad guy, and Sarah doesn’t leave every playdate completely drained from chasing him nonstop.
Third, we stopped pretending every playdate has to be a perfectly crafted gathering. Half the time now, we just meet at the big fenced toddler park a few blocks from my house. No breakables, no deep cleaning after, if Milo wants to run laps around the whole park for an hour, that’s what he does. We bring popsicles in a cooler, sit on a picnic table, and chat, and everyone gets what they need.
For Sarah, the biggest change has been that she doesn’t feel like she has to apologize for Milo every two minutes. She’ll text the group ahead of time if he’s extra wound up that day and ask to move the playdate to the park, which is no big deal. No one expects her to be able to hold him still for an hour of craft time, and we don’t take it personally if she leaves 15 minutes early because she’s exhausted. If I’m hosting and just got a new couch I don’t want sticky fingers on, I can suggest the park too, no hard feelings, no passive-aggressive comments.
Last week, we met at the park, and Milo climbed over the short fence into the off-leash dog area before any of us saw him. Three of us jumped up and ran after him, grabbing him right before he wandered up to a big golden retriever that was playing fetch. We all laughed about it as we walked back to the picnic table, and Sarah didn’t even apologize. I had to pick up 100 tiny Lego pieces off my living room floor after playdate at my house the week before that, and I was grumpy about it for 10 minutes while I cleaned up. Sometimes Sarah still skips a week if she’s too tired to corral him around other people. It’s not perfect, and it’s still hard some days. But it works, better than whispering behind each other’s backs and losing a friend over a toddler who just wants to run fast and climb everything.
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