Tre had a friend sleep over last night. Now, Tre’s almost nine (he likes to remind me), and this is his FIRST SLEEPOVER EVER. I’m told that’s practically child abuse.
Wait…a…minute. He had two friends spend the night last summer in the back yard in a tent. That, my friends, is a sleepover. Which makes me yet again, not a child abuser.
Anyhow, Craig James from across the street spent the night last night. I was prepared for the worst. I’d steeled myself for a very late night and exhausted morning. I mean, I remember having friends spend the night. It started out great, but the drama usually peaked around 3 am, when someone would be crying.
Well, here’s how the night went down:
After a full day of boy-like behavior (bike riding, tag playing, making farting noises with their armpits) they ate pizza, watched a movie, and went to bed. Actually, they retired to sleeping bags on Tre’s bedroom floor. Max (who had his own sleeping bag on the floor in his room) bugged them for a while, then went to sleep. They quietly played Yu-Gi-Oh! cards until about 10 pm, then turned off the light. I checked in on them about 10:15, and they were both sound asleep. I looked at them, shaking my head and thinking, “You are soooo not girls.”
You’d think I’d know that by now, huh?
So I thought I’d scored the easy sleepover, what with them not being girls and all. And they did sleep right through the night. The morning was lovely, with happy children eating waffles made by my Dad. They played incomprehensible games where they pulled their sleeping bags over their heads and wandered around the house, bumping into things. I was thrilled. I was ready to have someone spend the night every night for the next nine years. This was GREAT.
Then Craig James went home.
I don’t know if he was tired, or if he’d just overdrawn his “fun” account and had to pay a nasty “unfun” balance, but he was not a happy camper. He growled at his brothers and glared at me. He pitched wailing fits when asked to do…pretty much anything. He wept great tears when life threw him such hideous curveballs as…a seatbelt. He was a monster.
So I think I’ve got it figured out. Sleepovers are wonderful, and I’d be pleased to host one at any time. But my kid goes home with yours. Send him back when he’s fixed.