Hawk's Parenting Corner: How to Make Friends with a Bunch of Fancy-Pants Parents at the Playground

Feeling isolated as a parent?  Why not head out to the playground and try to make friends with some other parents? Not just any parents, though. Wouldn’t it be cool to shoot for the stars and make friends with a bunch of fancy-pants parents? Here’s how you do it:

Go when there’s absolutely gorgeous weather.  The only time you’ll find a bunch of fancy-pants parents in the park is when it’s absolutely gorgeous weather.  Plan to arrive during the park’s busy mid-morning hours, say 10:00 or 10:30.  Begin by casually scanning the area for a fancy-pants parent who you’d like to be friends with.  Meander over in their direction and make sure your kid follows you.  

To make a good impression on this fancy-pants parent, start to interact with your kid in a friendly, playful way, but also in a way that shows you are a firm, no-nonsense parent.  In addition, make it look like interactions between you and your child are like one big school lesson all day long.  

Here is a sample of things you’ll want to say:

“Look at all that bark mulch, honey!  Do you love it?  Yes, you do!” This is your friendly, playful side.  

“Don’t put the bark mulch in your mouth, honey. No!  I’m going to count to three.  One, two, two and a half, …” (At this point, just stop counting and take the bark mulch out of your child’s hand.)  This is your firm, no-nonsense side.  

Note that you want to look firm, but you certainly do NOT want to dole out any actual punishment to your child.  Not even a time out.  You don’t want Child Protective Services called on you.  Counting to three and threatening hypothetical, non-corporal punishments (“I’ll take away your iPad when we get home!”) are enough to establish your credibility as a tough parent in this fancy-pants crowd.

Next, say, “Look, honey!  Can you help me make the letter ‘M’ using little pieces of bark mulch?  Do you want to make a capital letter ‘M’ or a lowercase letter ‘m’?”  This is your parent-as-amazing teacher side.  

When your child inevitably just sits and stares at you throughout your whole litany of questions about the letter “M,” smile and respond, “Do you even care about the letter ‘M’?”

Make sure that your fancy-pants friend-to-be overhears all of this banter you have with your child.  That last question, “Do you even care about the letter ‘M’?” is your attempt at humor, a little aside aimed to make any fancy-pants adults who are nearby grin with you.  The sentiment you are looking to share is, “Look at us and how much we do for our crazy kids!  If only they knew how amazing their parents are and what a leg up we are giving them!” 

Look over at your friend-to-be.  If they are ignoring you or giving you an icy glare, simply grab your child’s hand and lead him away to another part of the playground where you can try to make friends with a different fancy-pants parent.  

But if your friend-to-be happens to be grinning right along with you, this is your invitation to strike up a conversation and get to know each other.

Look at their child and say, “How old?”  Do not assume gender.  Just say, “How old?”  

“He’s 27 months,” the fancy-pants parent will say.  Remember, I told you not to assume the gender—the parent will eventually let you know one way or another.  You’ll want to avoid squashing this budding friendship by mistaking their child’s gender. 

Next, break out the calculator on your phone and figure out how old 27 months is in human years.  Divide 27 by 12.  Nod appreciatively when you see the quotient.  No matter what their fancy-pants kid looks like, say, “Wow, I thought they were older than that!”  This is a big compliment to fancy-pants parents.  It tells them that their child is smart, athletic, and mature-acting for their age.  Your comment is proof to them that their child is already a huge success in every way possible!

Warning:  Do not say, “Wow, he’s big for his age!”  Fancy-pants parents can be touchy about obesity even regarding a two-year-old and they might freak out if anything you say can be possibly construed as a comment about obesity.

If you want to have fancy-pants friends, you have to be really complimentary about their kids.  If their kid is hitting yours over the head with a Tonka truck, say, “Wow, he has great large motor coordination!”  If their child says some insult to your child, compliment them on their great vocabulary.  

Next, wait to be asked your kid’s age.  It shouldn’t take long.  Most fancy-pants people want to know how old your kid is.  Even if your kid just got pulled out of a burning building, any fancy-pants onlookers would come right up and ask, “How old?”  

When your new friend asks your child’s age, amaze them by declaring how many SECONDS old your child is.  “Seventeen million four hundred eighty-six thousand three hundred eighty-eight seconds, seventeen million four hundred eighty-six thousand three hundred eighty-nine, seventeen million four hundred eighty-six thousand three hundred ninety, ….”

Keep the count going for a little bit.  And don’t worry about the math.  They won’t check the math on you until they get home.  Just make up a large number to start with and go from there. This routine will really impress your new friend.  You’ll look like such an attentive, responsible, loving parent.  You’ll look like the best parent.  

But you can’t be too good of a parent.  It’s lame to be too uptight.  Hone your image now by telling a story about how laid back you are. Here’s one anecdote you might use:

“Yesterday, my kid was asking me for a new toy.  They were like, ‘Daddy, I need a new toy.’  I said, ‘I’m not buying you a new toy.  You already have so many, and you never clean them up!’  And then I went and got an empty cardboard box out of the basement and I was like, ‘Here, play with this.’  He played with an empty cardboard box for the whole morning.  I am never buying another toy, seriously, when he’ll just play all day with a cardboard box.”

Laugh uproariously with your new fancy-pants friend.  After some more conversation like this (make sure to also tell them you love their kid’s name), you will be fast friends.  Exchange numbers so you can text about meeting up at the park again sometime.  Say goodbye, have your kid give their kid a fist bump (it’s safer than a high five, germ-wise!), get in the car to leave, and never see or hear from them again.  

Seven years later, you will finally delete their number from your phone because you can’t remember who that person is.  And in the event that you do cross paths at some point, AVOID EYE CONTACT.  This is just a fancy-pants person you ONCE chatted with in the park while your kids played. Are you really supposed to have remembered that one measly little encounter?  

You don’t want to look like someone who’s desperate to have fancy-pants friends, do you?  

Bonus material: One time, I chatted with another dad in the park who responded to my query about “How old?” by telling me his daughter’s age, not in months or years, but in days.

I thought it was quite impressive that he knew so much about his child. It wasn’t until later that day that I checked his math. There’s no way he had it right— the number he gave would have made her seven, if I remember correctly. She was no older than three, maybe four.