By: Alex Morgan
Updated: June 23, 2020
Originally Published: September 25, 2015
I never intended for anything to break. It was only partially my fault; I was merely a participant in a chaotic series of events fueled by sugar and excitement. If we’re being honest—while my mother is conveniently absent—I must ask: what kind of fool permits a half-dozen 5-year-olds to have a sleepover?
While many children were enjoying pizza-themed birthday celebrations, or encounters with peculiar clowns, or bumper bowling parties, I was hosting a Fudgie the Whale cake and Nesquik chasers for my sleepover. After indulging in Fudgie, the only way is down, and where better to land than the bathroom? What better place for a birthday princess to entertain six girls in a late-night game of pretend? “You, my loyal subjects, occupy the edge of the tub. For our amusement, dangle from the curtain rod!”
Five-year-old girls may not appear sturdy, but when you hang six of them from a shower curtain rod—securely bolted into the tiled walls—they can create havoc reminiscent of a DIY disaster on cable television.
When the rod came crashing down, we scattered like cockroaches, with me, the ringleader, leading the charge. I reached my room a full 30 seconds before my mother did. I dove into my sleeping bag, panting as if I had just run a marathon, and pretended I had been asleep all along. I stammered, “Wha-what was that?”
Innocent until proven guilty—unless your mother is the judge, and trust me, I was indeed guilty. In that case, it’s “We’ll discuss this in the morning, and if you think you’ll have another sleepover, you’re sorely mistaken.”
But honestly, were we really sleeping? None of us were. We were up to mischief. My mother learned, as I have come to understand, that sleepovers rarely involve actual sleep.
True to her word, my mother only allowed me one guest for sleepovers after the Fudgie incident. My brief reign as a princess, barking orders during a 2 a.m. make-believe session, left a lasting mark on her.
As for me, I have struggled to maintain my resolve. I swore I wouldn’t let my children have sleepovers until they were at least 10 years old. My oldest turned 10 last February and has already hosted over 25 sleepovers.
As she approached third grade, my daughter had been asking for a sleepover for quite some time. “Not yet,” I would say. “When we believe you’re ready,” we insisted. “We don’t know that family well enough. They might have guns lying around or serve unhealthy snacks or eat Oreos without twisting them open first,” we cautioned.
She craved endless time with her friends. I remember that feeling—wanting to talk all night until the words slipped away into sleep. Such friendships are unique to youth, eager to fill every moment with the chatter that forges bonds.
By a stroke of luck, we became friends with neighbors who had a daughter entering third grade as well. The girls were (and still are) close; their family enjoys Oreos the right way. So when both girls approached me for a sleepover, I acquiesced.
We sent my daughter over one night, and a week later, we welcomed her friend into our home. The evening unfolded just as I had hoped: countless giggles, snacks galore, hand-drawn posters celebrating their friendship, and a few reminders from me to “head to bed now.”
This was both a milestone and an ordinary event, akin to the daily progression of growing up. With my daughter away for the first night—my first time sleeping without her at home—I felt the years speeding by. I felt a mix of pride and disappointment when she didn’t call home in the middle of the night to be picked up. As a hostess, witnessing her easy camaraderie gave me warmth, and I felt ready to embrace this new chapter.
However, I had forgotten one crucial detail: sleepovers entail little actual sleep. Arranging blankets and sleeping bags proved futile, much like my futile attempts to coax them into slumber. The girls stayed up late and woke early, maximizing every moment of their togetherness. They were no longer the little ones who would fall asleep after a long day; these older girls seized the night, contemplating how they would engage with the world.
While they didn’t demolish a bathroom, my daughter and her friend demonstrated that a sleepover is more accurately described as a wakeover. A snooze-not. A stay-up-late.
It’s reminiscent of Inigo Montoya from The Princess Bride telling Vizzini: “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Perhaps it should be called a giggle-fest. A chatty-all-night…
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Summary:
The chaotic yet memorable experience of a childhood sleepover highlights not only the fun and camaraderie among friends but also the inevitable mischief that often accompanies such events. As children grow, these gatherings evolve from innocent slumber parties into lively sessions of conversation and connection. Despite the lack of actual sleep, these moments foster bonds that last a lifetime, marking important milestones in the journey of growing up.