Last night was my first experience with hosting a sleepover for Evans’ 8th birthday. Now, please keep in mind that I, as a general rule, dislike all children other than my spawn. So, inviting FIVE children to celebrate with an all-nighter was an outrageous expectation for myself. But, I did it! I survived!
Now, a sleepover presents somewhat of an issue when your 8 year old son’s best friend is of the woman-child persuasion and, one of his other best friends (since kindergarten) is also of the XX-chromosome variety and has two older sisters. As a mom to three BOYS, it took the most innocent of confessions from a PRE-pre teen to make me take note and dread the day when I have to go into detail over WHY co-ed sleepovers are not a normal occurrence.
I am lucky in the aspect that, as much as I dislike most kids, I can honestly say that I have a dear friend, the mom to the aforementioned three girls, and that I ADORE those mini-females. And this, readers, is where the situation gets hairy…
As I stood in the kitchen last night, and all the festivities were in full swing, Enid (name changed) wanders in and with this ever so innocent look, begins speaking in a low and rather secretive voice. (She’s normally VERY animated)
“Yes? What’s up?”
“You know that boy that is sitting besides Evans at the table?”
“Landon? (name changed) Yeah, he’s nice. What’s going on?”
…thus begins pure white noise and all I recall is, “I want to sleep next to him.” And, at some point a chiming in from the birthday boy’s best friend (the girl one) that she REALLY thinks that my younger son has a HUGE crush on her. Why? Because, he gave her a Valentine this year that said, “Be Mine”. Oh honey.. I wish that understanding boys were that simple but, I digress.
Now, please know that there other words verbalized previous to that statement and pretty sure after it but, this is was reverberates in my MOTHER TO THREE BOYS brain. At this point, all I could manage was a nervous “Haha”.
And, what leads me to the following… Co-ed sleepovers are the devil. Well, maybe not the devil but, close enough. And, beings that will eventually sprout lumps on their chest and hair in precarious places that are hard to shave for even the most of limber persons, are inevitable parts of my men-children’s lives that I am going to have to contend with. Never again, will I complain about the noisy ass toys they want or the lack of selection in the boys’ clothing department. Parents of daughters, you have my respect. Not that you even need it. You must have the patience of a Saint and access to an endless firearm supply for the teenage years. Carry on female beings. Carry on. Just, well… not at my house. Or around my penis bearers. Okay well, at least until you graduate college. Or later. Later is definitely better for my timeline.