As a teacher, I understand that parents, even first-timers, are not allowed inside the classrooms.

So as we sent our two-year-old for the first time to a playschool trial class, my husband and I watched the classroom door close in silence, until he broke it with a question that echoed our shared anxiety: “Hindi natin s’ya makikita sa loob?”

My husband is a teacher too, and it felt weird for both of us to be in the parents’ shoes this time. I convinced him as much as I was convincing myself: “We have to trust her teachers the way parents trust us.”

As we were walking away, we didn’t realize we didn’t have an actual agenda for our one hour of freedom. It could have been a productive time for us with no toddler in tow, but guess what? Her absence made us forget how to make use of our time wisely. Here’s what happened. 

My daughter knows her Sanrio characters, and as my husband and I walked aimlessly at the mall, I saw these cute Sanrio plastic cups on the front store display. The cup had three color and design options, and I debated against myself whether to get one for my daughter pronto or I’ll let her choose what she wants after playschool.

So I asked my husband, but he left the matter for me to decide on.

I was clearly undecided so I scrutinized the designs and continued to debate against myself. I had too much time to do so, am I right?

My husband and I went inside the store to check knick-knacks and home finds while I think about what I really wanted to do with the cup. 

Whenever we go out, it’s a rare opportunity that all three of us are seated and enjoying our meals. It’s either one of us is walking our toddler or the other one is eating with one hand. We already forgot how it is to enjoy and be fully present in a meal.

It was our chance, but we blew it.

Believe it or not, we continued to amuse ourselves with the different sizes and makes of pouches, color palettes of sand toys, and the variety of tableware and food containers and the million other things we don’t need but we found cute.

Can you imagine how many times we said, “Take a look at this!” or “I didn’t know this was so expensive!”

“I hope she participates in class.”

“So this is how it feels without a toddler in a mall.”

“I hope she drinks her water.”

“Do you think she’ll follow her teacher’s instructions?”

Oh, what a great way to spend our time.

Time went by so fast. Before we knew it, it was almost time to fetch our daughter. So in contrast with our dilly-dallying perusing every item on every shelf, we were quite in a hurry to decide which ones to get because we had to go to the counter. Luckily, there wasn’t any line.

My husband asked me if I’m finally decided with the cup. I took the blue one and finally paid for it. I wanted to give it as a reward to our daughter for a job well done in trial class.

Meanwhile, my husband bought a room spray, and a small pouch for his hygiene kit, a Hello Kitty rice mold for our daughter, and some more things we didn’t really need.

What a pricey one hour of waiting!

With only a few minutes left on our own, we thought about going to a coffee shop. I know, we should have done it sooner.

We had the coffee placed in a to-go cup so we could enjoy it while walking back to the playschool, which was unnecessary if only we went straight to the coffee shop right after we dropped her.

But come to think of it, the walking around in the store helped divert our attention albeit feebly. If we stayed in the coffee shop, our thoughts would have spiraled even more. Then again, I think that whatever choice we made back then are both futile attempts to be productive. It was a new feeling after all, being on our own for the first time in a long time. 

We survived the first day of playschool doing absolutely nothing productive. We fetched our daughter, listened to her teacher’s feedback, and had lunch the usual way – yes, with our toddler wanting to walk around the mall leaving one of us eating alone.

But after that day, we knew better. It turned out our daughter was more prepared for playschool than we were! It’s fun reminiscing about this day, or the day my husband and I forgot how to be fully-functioning adults for an hour.