I Wouldn’t So Much Call it a Sleepover

[Extra-Special Note from Jodi:  I just found out that Pistols + Popcorn is a 2009 Bloggie Finalist.  Let me just be honest.  I’d love to win. I’d really really think that was super awesome.  Another thing that’s cool?  Fat Cyclist is nominatated also (again). So please click here and vote for us in our respective categories.  Pistols + Popcorn: Best-Kept Secret Weblog, and Fat Cyclist: Best Sports Weblog.  I know, the sideways scroll.  Think of it as a new skill…]

                                              

Friday night Roan had a date with Sophia.  They had brokered a sleepover arrangement with all the appropriate parents the previous Sunday, and I was told that Sophia had packed her bag that night.  Roan’s had a six-day countdown running, so the pressure was on me to deliver the goods on this hotly anticipated event. 

 

I had a few things in my favor:

1) Sophia is an extraordinarily well-behaved girl.  She single-handedly taught Roan to share when he was developmentally ready, and she is just clever enough to give him his way often enough that he stays passively under her thumb.

2) Roan and Sophia have taken to playing in his room, door closed, so I don’t have to be in charge of activities the whole time.  They exhibit their true New York nature when they get hungry by wondering to each other if they should order out, and when they decide they should, they yell, “Service!” to me and I bring them a tray of food.  Usually they tip well, unless I get the order wrong.  But that’s just sloppy telepathy on my part.

Roan and I prepared an activity for when Sophia arrived.  We wrote all the words he could spell and read, (his “sight” words) on cards.  He and Sophia attend different schools but are pretty much exactly at the same level in reading and writing.  We figured they could take all the cards and put them all around the house, wherever they wanted.  First they had to read the word to me, and spell it before it could

be placed.  Roan loves this stuff and it blew me away that he has around 75 words that he knows by heart already.  The kid’s a genius. 

When Sophia arrived, the dance party began.  This happens pretty much no matter what, even if she’s just going to be around for a few minutes.  These kids have the music in them and don’t mind the tight constraints of our home.  Plenty of moves are busted off the couch with tremendous results.

                                   

Appetites were worked up, and a fantastic meal was served.  A tasty blend of mac ‘n’ cheese (with hotdogs), complimented by apples, broccoli and San Pelligrino Limonata, with a Magic 8-Ball on hand to settle any disputes about what movie we’d watch. Space Chimps was agreed upon and three delectable deserts were served. It is a party, afterall.  Ice Cream, Nutter Butter cookies (ignoring warnings to not eat peanut butter), and Life Savers.  Sounds a little like I just threw that together, no?  Yeh well I did.  Fortunately Anson has the same eating habits as a five-year-old, and I typically have the corresponding go-to foods on hand.  But give me a recipe that calls for pancetta, and I’m going to have to go enter the Googleweb. 

Bedtime.  Well that’s just a name.  Obviously staying up and getting one over on the old guys out in the living room is part of the whole event.  They did stay up all night, and topped it off with trying to get me out of bed at 4:45 AM.  Amateurs.  I exercised my authority and put them back into bed, which they stayed in until 6:30. Victory!  Wait….no, that sucked.  Still I decided I would feed them anyway even though they are bad people.  They stirred up the batter for pancakes while I downed some coffee.  I relocated my love for them with the help of the velvet-gloved caress of caffeine, and made up for my formerly grouchy self by offering them both maple syrup and chocolate syrup for dipping.  Peace was brokered, harmony resumed.

Obviously any child that spends any amount of time with us in our home is going to exit with some unnatural color in their hair.  Sophia chose purple, and we did a touch-up on Roan’s as well.  Being that Sophia’s dad is a preacher-man, I’m guessing that being “The Forgiving Type” is written in his job description.  This is the cornerstone of my friendship with their family.  Let’s face it – this

is the cornerstone of my friendship with anyone.

The kids looked fab, and Sophia’s hair was received with much love from her dad.  Her mom wasn’t home when I returned her so eh….you know, forgiveness and all that.  And when I got home from taking Sophia back to her people?  The Slumber-After-Party had already begun.