Tag Archives: Sleepover

Over There? No. Maybe Under The Couch. . .

by Richard

Just wondering where the time went.

There I was, up in the wilds of Northern Idaho with Sarcasmo and the lovely, soon-to-be-and-currently-one-year-older-than-spring-chicken-me She Who Must Be Whimsical To Be Catered To, making sure to post just about every day, when . . . boom.

Suddenly, here it is Wednesday and I’ve been missing for a day and a half.

Oops.

Not much else I can say. Getting back into the swing of things at Wonderful Elementary School, getting back into the groove with some of the coolest kids I’ve ever met (plus some teachers), and making sure Hyper Lad and Buzz, The Garbage Disposal That Walks Like A Dog, are all right. . .

That seems to take up a bit of attention. If you know what I mean. And even if not. It still commands some attention.

Even more, Zippy the College Boy came home from University of North Carolina Wilmington last night, courtesy of the neighbors, and proceeded to bring havoc back with him. It seems we’d become used to the relative quiet.

Because when Zippy the College Boy came home, so too did the Posse, a group of three to four boys around Zippy the College Boy’s age, and so too did the chaos. In only a short few weeks, it seems as if I’d forgotten just how loud four to five mid-to-late teens can become.

Very, just in case you dudes were wondering.

Very.

So now I’m sitting in the relative quiet of the early morning. Zippy the College Boy is doing what college boys since time immemorial have done: sleeping. Hyper Lad and his semi-constant companion Tip are passed out in the Creature Cave, following a late-night sleepover full of killing and blood. (On a video game.) And She Who Must Be Off is away to work.

Things are — for now — quiet.

Which means it’s time to catch up.

Which means it’s time for me to be off. I’ve got people to do and things to see. And so I will.

And also will be back tomorrow, when we talk about giving thanks.

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Birthday Party

As my little dudes get older, I’m finding that birthday parties are becoming a lot less hassle, but a lot more worrying. I mean, when the little dudes were, well, little, they mostly had birthday parties at home. They were productions over which I and my wife, known to some as She Who Loves A Good Party, labored for weeks and, sometimes, months to make sure it was just right.

And, of course, by just right I mean that it was something the adults could enjoy while the little dudes completely ignored everything we’d set up and played off in the corner of the yard.

We probably should have expected this sort of thing considering how we managed the first birthday of all our little dudes. See, we figured that babies that young really couldn’t enjoy the party. Adults, however, could. So we decided to throw a keg party with actual keg.

What? Don’t you judge me. It was fun. I think.

No, I’m pretty sure it was fun. A couple of months after each party pictures started arriving in the mail in plain brown envelopes. I’m pretty sure it looked like we were having fun. Although the inclusion of a whip sort of cast that into doubt.

Anyway.

As the little dudes aged, we started planning the elaborate parties. At one point, I know we even rented a bouncy house and hired a clown who also made drawings of the kids. And, yes, in retrospect, I do understand that was going a little overboard. I think we’ve sort of calmed down.

The little dudes became not-so-little dudes and, when the two oldest hit their teens, they started rejecting the idea of parties completely. That was for little kids. They were grown up. At, say, 13 or so. They wanted to get a couple of their best friends together and head out for a night at the mall, play some games and hit a late movie (all paid for by Mom and Dad) and then head back to the house for a late-night sleepover and more movies. Now that was a party I could get behind.

The youngest little dude, rapidly approaching double digits, still likes to have parties, but not at home. That’s for little dudes and he’s a big dude. Now he wants to go places like laser tag, or bowling, or someplace like that where he and his buds can run around, yell and scream, and generally act like crazed monkeys without getting yelled at. Which is, you know, just about perfect.

I plan on enjoying the heck out of this birthday party, because I have the feeling that we won’t be getting many more.

— Richard

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Always Be Prepared For An Emergenct Sleep Over

My boys’ buddy from their basketball team and school slept over last night. My son came up after their game and asked if his friend could come over. Then I found out that their friends brother was sleeping at another friends home and I figured that he could stay with us if he wanted. I called his parents and asked, and they said ‘great’ and dropped off his stuff.

Turns out that we all got suckered. The kid had already planned on sleeping over somewhere. The little guy had (unknown to his parents) packed a bag with pajamas and clean clothes (including, of course, no toothbrush) himself. So basically he wanted a night out and was looking for a buddy to “invite” him over.

Now, I should have realized something was up because I actually invented this trick in college. I used to go out partying wearing a backpack with my pajamas, clean clothes, tooth brush and other unnamed items just in case I had an emergency sleepover at a sorority house. But, unlike the little guy, I didn’t have nearly as much luck. All right, I had absolutely no luck, but the optimism was nice.

Dude!, I should ask him how he got himself invited over. Then go back to Gainesville (yes I’m a GATOR!) and use his techniques.

— Barry
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