As my mom tells it, my first slumber party was around third grade for Esther’s birthday. And I would spend the following day as grumpy as, quote, “a little wet hen.” As I grew as a connoisseur of the sleepover soirees, I mostly remember being the primary target of the typical party pranks including seances where little girls tried to lift me with just two fingers, and waking-up with my hand in a cup of warm water. Myths busted. There are several analog photos floating around of fifth grade me covered in towers of toilet paper and soda cans.
Last night was our very first birthday slumber party in the living room of the barn. Poor Cruz succumbed to a barf bug and wasn’t able to make it. It’s quite likely the bug Jake had last weekend when he woke-up at Cruz’s house on Sunday morning and tossed his cookies. Our party was a carefully crafted small group of the Stars and brothers of the Stars: Kai, Big Jackson, Jake and Nate. There was pizza from Giuseppe’s, caesar salad, brownies and double peanut butter chip ice cream. There were nerf gun wars. And the helium balloons suffered immediate death as soon as our guests arrived.
This morning we woke-up and the time had sprung forward. Luca met us downtown and we reclined in luxury for the latest Pixar movie, Onward. I absolutely loved its Brothers Stick Together message. The half-dad wasn’t even too weird. We closed out the marathon birthday party with sandwiches at Ike’s and cones at McConnell’s. All in all it was the easiest party we’ve planned, yet I still needed a recovery nap this afternoon. Today, I’m definitely the mother of two little wet hens.
Last night I slept upstairs in the barn and fell asleep around 9 or so. I’ve been quarantined in the barn this entire week, avoiding the bug that started its usual course: Jacob to James. Around 11:15PM I wake-up and I can still hear the TV. Left to his own devices, Jacob may never go to sleep. I head downstairs and see Michael Jordan slam dunking with some sort of background cartoon animations. Nate is curled up under his Man City blanket, fast asleep.
“Guys, it’s time to go to bed. How much longer till this movie is over?”
Kai says, “One minute.”
Hmmm. Likely story. The movie ends and we scramble around looking for the remote control, which seems to be lost in a mess of blankets and sleeping bags and pillows. I find it next to Nate’s feet.
TV off, lights out. Goodnight people.
This morning I ask Nate when he fell asleep… was it during the Michael Jordan movie? He naturally responds, “What Michael Jordan movie?”
We know whose got a childhood of toilet-papering ahead of him.