31 August 2015
Sleepovers are misnamed. Perhaps I should have realized when my insomniac children asked to host a sleepover that little if any sleep would be in order for the evening. Ever the optimist, however, and since the cicadas sing announcements of summer’s end, I agreed. Three kids hosted three others the same day my eldest girl went on a date and my husband an important job interview.
With the eldest girl on a date and the husband on an important job interview, the little people vastly outnumbered me. It was okay, though. I’m tough. I’m accustomed to being outnumbered. I live it daily.
I’m not accustomed, however, to the variety of childhood needs encapsulated in the little society we established for the evening. “Gluten free” and “no nuts” I anticipated. “I don’t like that” surprised me. I’ve taught my kids to…
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