Tootie’s had a lot of sleepovers — at our house, at friends’ houses — but last night was her first slumber party.
Her BFF Olivia was turning 6, and after the festivities at a local pizza parlor wrapped up, a caravan of cars headed to Olivia’s house.
One by one, little girls headed eagerly toward the front door, clutching pillows and stuffed animals.
I counted silently as they streamed by … 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 …
Wow, she’s so brave, I thought of Kelly, my mom friend hosting the party.
Thus far, I’ve hosted only one kid at a time at Tootie’s sleepovers.
The other parents filed in behind me, writing down phone numbers and issuing last-minute instructions to their daughters to behave.
The girls, of course, weren’t listening.
One was turning cartwheels. Two were performing cheers. And another pair were chasing down a terrified kitten.
Better leave now before Kelly changes her mind about this, I thought, easing my way toward the door.
I could tell the other parents were thinking the same thing by the way they made their own furtive exits and raced out to their waiting cars.
“Show no fear!”
I climbed into our truck, where Hubs and the E-man waited.
“Hurry,” I hissed, “before she changes her mind about this.”
This morning, the phone rang.
“Hello!” I chirped, having slept in this morning.
“Hi,” a weary voice replied.
“You survived!” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Kelly replied uncertainly.
And it was then I made a mental note to myself:
Sleepovers, good. Slumber parties, SCARY.