It's the first Saturday in December and we are finally having our meet-up with Kelsey and her parents–whose names really are Lisa and Megan, like I had thought–at the church's Holiday Craft Fair. Parking is easier than I had predicted. I figured that the church's lot would be overflowing with cars and that we might need to park on the street. But there are plenty of spaces, and as such, we're a little early for our playdate.

It's funny how similar getting ready for a first playdate feels to getting ready for a first date. Not that I've gone on a first date in well over a decade, but this morning sure brought back feelings. What should we wear? Should we coordinate? If we match too well, is that weird? Tiffany and I review possible topics for discussion. Are we up to date on LGBT news and policy? Anything big brewing in the news? We definitely don't want to sound uneducated or out of touch.

And I was so nervous about being late that we wound up showing up early. "I guess we could sit in the car for a bit," I suggest.

"Oh my God, it's freezing out. We're not sitting in the car. Let's just walk around the craft fair like everyone else," is Tiffany's much less anxious response.

"Yeah, I guess that makes much more sense," I admit, and then turn around from the driver's seat to look at the kids. "Okay, Spencer, do you remember who we are going to see today?"

"Kessy," he answers.

"Yes, Kelsey! Good."

"And what are you going to say when you see her?" Tiffany prompts.

"I say hi. I am so excited!" He beams.

We make sure the kids are fully bundled and then jostle them into their stroller. At least the snow flurries from a few days ago have melted, so it's easy enough to navigate the stroller past the occasional patch of ice and into the church building.

The entranceway is set up with a seating area with small tables and chairs. A double set of open doors leads to a large meeting room that has been transformed into a festive market. Snowflakes and Christmas trees and nativity scenes decorate the walls. Almost every stall sign is written out in red and green lettering and most also have a Santa hat painted on them next to the name.

The first stall is selling baked goods and the next one has knit scarves on display. Maybe I should buy my mom a scarf. I wonder if there is something train related to buy my dad, like a new hand-painted building to add to his set.

At first, the kids seem content with staring at all the colors and smiling at unfamiliar faces. Just taking in the sounds and smells. But soon we approach a stall with a variety of knick-knacks: stuffed animals, posed action figures, an assortment of plastic junk, rubber bouncy balls, boxes of Nerf guns that look like they have been opened and resealed.

"Out!" demands Spencer.

"Want!" cries Nora.

Tiffany and I both crouch down and try to sooth the kids into submission, but they continue to writhe and push against their 5-point restraint harnesses. Spencer throws off his hat. Nora kicks at the air, nearly contacting Tiffany's chest.

A passing middle-aged man gives me a knowing smile, lips crooked and eyebrow raised. The stall vendor, an older lady wearing a red wool sweater, eyes us with suspicion.

At the next stall, I see a couple turn to see what the commotion is all about. It's Lisa and Megan. And of course they are carrying a completely quiet and content Kelsey.

Sometimes I wonder about people with well-behaved children. Are they doing something different from us? Have stricter routines? Clearer boundaries? More consistent discipline? Or are they just lucky? I guess it boils down to nature versus nurture and how much control we actually have over shaping the little creatures we brought home from the hospital.

But before I can get too jealous that Lisa and Megan have a quiet child, as my two kids garner stares from everyone around us, Kelsey buries her head into Lisa's shoulder and cries.

This playdate is off to a great start.

"Well, hello," I greet them while keeping a hand on Spencer's heaving chest, still trying to calm him.

Upon seeing Kelsey, he smiles. "Hi Kessy!" he shouts, just like we practiced.

Megan and Lisa start to say hello, but are interrupted.

"Where Lamby?" Kelsey cries into her mother's coat.

Lisa and Megan look at each other. I recognize the nonverbal exchange. They don't know where Lamby is any more than Kelsey does.

"Didn't you just have her?" Megan asks, patting her daughter on the back. "We definitely didn't leave her at home."

"She was in the car with us," Lisa answers. She bounces up and down and shushes. "Don't worry, Kels, we'll find her."

"Let me run to the car real quick and look," Megan says, flashing an apologetic smile to Tiffany and me.

By now, Nora has also stopped kicking and yelling, and her eyes are on Kelsey.

In the momentary lull in the exchange, the older lady in a red wool sweater walks out from behind the counter and is holding a stuffed bear. "Do you want to hold Mr. Snuggles while your aunt runs out to the car?" she asks Kelsey.

Lisa and I make eye contact. She purses her lips and gives a small shake of her head. Then she takes a deep breath through her nostrils and as she exhales, she smiles wide. "That was Kelsey's other mommy, not her aunt. And that's very nice of you, but..."

Kelsey shrieks.

"No thank you, not right now," Lisa finishes her thought.

We all turn and amble towards the front of the market, where wafts of sweet smells beckon to us.

As soon as we are out of hearing distance, Lisa complains, "I know she didn't think we were sisters. Really."

"Coming out is a perpetual process, isn't it?" I remark, thinking about everything happening at school right now.

Lisa laughs. "Well, at least it gets easier every time, doesn't it?"

I notice a shift in Tiffany's step and before I can respond, she comments, "Actually, Xander telling you he's trans was one of the first times we've outed ourselves to another couple in..."

"Ever." I finish her sentence. "I'm not exactly..."

"It's not something that usually comes up," Tiffany jumps back in.

Lisa just nods. We've arrived back at the front lobby, and she puts Kelsey down on one chair.

"Although," I continue, "there is an upcoming assembly about transgender visibility at the school where I teach, and it might be an opportunity."

Tiffany raises her eyebrows, but doesn't immediately contradict me, even though I know we're not exactly on the same page. Instead, she turns her attention back to the kids. "I'm going to unbuckle you. You need to stay right here and sit nice, the way that Kelsey is."

"Yes, mama," Spencer agrees with a solemn nod.

"I'm not sure that a school assembly is really the place to disclose such personal information," Tiffany says after both kids are on our laps.

"Why?" Lisa asks. Her tone seems genuinely curious, not confrontational.

But before Tiffany can answer, Megan comes back in, a well-loved stuffed lamb under her arm, and hands cupped together in front of her mouth. "It's really cold out there!" She laughs as she hands a beaming Kelsey her Lamby. "But it was worth it for that smile!" Then, she pulls up a chair. "What did I miss?"

"I was just telling Lisa about a transgender visibility assembly I am planning at the elementary school where I teach," I answer.

"Oh, you're a teacher? That's so funny."

"Why is that funny?" I ask, confused. People normally don't think of teaching as a funny profession.

"It's just that our good friend, who is trans, is also in education. I didn't realize so many trans guys worked at schools. Maybe you know each other? Aiden Mills?"

I let out a laugh. It comes more from my nose than my mouth. Before she said the name, I was about to retort that not all trans guys know each other. But, this is a name I've now heard several times. "Small world," I say. "We don't know each other, but we work for the same district."

"Small world indeed," Megan agrees. "Well, you should definitely reach out to him about your assembly if you work for the same district. That's right up his ally."

"I have his work email. Maybe I should." I nod in agreement, even though I'm not sure I actually will.

Tiffany shifts in her seat. Sometimes I wish I could read her mind the way she seems to always read mine. "You know," she starts, "those cookies smell delicious. Anyone up for a snack?"

And with that change in topic, the conversation turns to baked goods. I have a feeling that Tiffany and I will debrief this playdate for quite a long time later tonight, dissecting the conversation, and analyzing if we said the right things.

First playdates really are just like first dates, aren't they?