I used to love sleepovers when I was a kid. Getting my parents to agree was always a little like being an arms negotiator - every sentence - every word - had to be carefully weighed lest it sink the whole thing.
Honestly, I never understood what the big deal was. Then I became a parent.
Gus had a sleep out with two friends last night. Jack and Ben are twins, who live around the corner from us in the condos. Very nice kids. So, how hard could it be?
Let's see, I put up a ginormous 7-person tent (with two poles left over), inflated 3 blow up beds, got pizza, popped corn, made drinks, watched some Teen Wolf, awkwardly explained what "circumcision" meant, endured smoke bombs, fart jokes, and sparkler-associated pyromania - all before they even got in to the tent.
The rest of the evening consisted of me repeatedly telling the boys to go to sleep, Niko stumbling in around 1:00 a.m. (something about the cat on his face), a few more "GO TO SLEEPs" and finally peace and quiet. That is until 4:15 when Jake came in our room and said, "Chris, maybe I should go home. I'm not sleeping."
Wisely Kelly suggested that he move to the spare room. So groggily, I got out of bed, walked him to the spare room, pulled down the covers and got him settled in...all in nothing but my underwear. Yeah, so much for personal privacy and boundaries.
At dawn's first light Gus and Ben bounced back in the house, voices blaring. I thankfully fell back asleep.. until I had to wake up to make 2 different types of eggs and get 2 bowls of cereal.
Oh yeah, now I get it.
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