There’s something uniquely sacred about a good catch-up with a friend. A proper, uninterrupted, sit-down-with-a-cuppa kind of chat. It’s the chance to offload life’s burdens, laugh at the absurdity of it all, and remind each other that we’re not alone in the chaos.
But lately, I’ve noticed something creeping into these moments that makes me want to stay home instead: the children.
Not babies sleeping in prams. Not toddlers happily destroying a jigsaw in the corner. I’m talking about those sharp-eared, fast-witted, uncomfortably observant little mini-adults hovering just on the edge of the room. The ones who suddenly develop “selective invisibility” — quiet as mice but hearing every single word we say.
And honestly, I can’t stand it.
I know it sounds harsh, but I don’t want an audience of children when I’m opening up about my life. I can’t be my ‘authentic self’ when I’m hyper-aware that a 13-year-old is soaking up every syllable like a sponge. There’s a difference between confiding in a friend and feeling like you’re providing live entertainment for the youth of today.
Let’s be real: kids are not emotionally equipped to hear grown-up problems. They don’t have the maturity to understand context or nuance, and they certainly don’t have the discretion to keep things to themselves. “Mummy’s friend is having a meltdown about her boss,” will undoubtedly become “Mummy’s friend is going to quit her job because her boss is an arsehole” by the time it’s recounted at the school gates.
It’s not the child’s fault, of course. Curiosity is natural, and boundaries are learned, not instinctive. But this is exactly why parents — my friends — need to manage it better. I’m not there to be a side character in their child’s formative understanding of adult life. I’m there for my friend. For her. Not to be a plot twist in next week’s playground gossip.
I also have no interest in censoring myself. I don’t want to sugar-coat my problems, whisper, or “save it for later.” Frankly, I have enough of that at work. I don’t want to stop mid-rant about my latest family crisis because I see a small head peeking around the doorframe. I don’t want to reduce the full, messy, adult reality of my life into a “nice version” fit for kids.
Call me old-fashioned, but I believe in ‘grown-ups only’ conversations. There’s a reason the phrase “children should be seen and not heard” survived for centuries — though I’d add “and not listening in, either.”
Of course, I know it’s not always possible to banish kids to another dimension. They live there too, after all. But if I’ve made the effort to visit, surely it’s not too much to ask for a bit of privacy? Just 30 minutes of uninterrupted, child-free chat time. I’m not asking for a weekend retreat. I’m asking for half an hour of feeling like I can speak freely without later being quoted, misquoted, or questioned by someone under 4ft tall.
So here’s my plea to all my lovely friends with kids: put them in another room. Get them a snack, a tablet, or a pack of crayons and a threat to stay put. I love your kids — I really do — but I don’t love them enough to share my mental breakdowns with them.
Friendship is a two-way street. But if my side of the road is full of pint-sized pedestrians poised to share my troubles in the playground or on social media, I might just stay on the sofa at home.
SJB
Talk to us: Do you ever feel like you’re censoring yourself around your friends’ kids? How do you handle it when little ears are listening in on grown-up chats?
So Just Be 