I certainly didn’t intend for anything to get broken. Part of it was my fault; after all, I was merely a participant in a chaotic whirlwind fueled by sugar and excitement. If we’re being truthful—without my mother around to judge—we can agree, who in their right mind organizes a sleepover for six 5-year-olds?
While other children were enjoying birthday parties at pizza establishments or engaging with clowns and bumper bowling, I was hosting a Fudgie the Whale and Nesquik-fueled sleepover. After indulging in such sugary treats, the only way to go was down, and where better to land than the bathroom? What better place for a birthday princess to gather six girls for a pre-dawn game of imagination? “You, my subjects, entertain us! Climb upon the edge of the tub and dangle from the curtain rod for our amusement!”
Though they may seem fragile, six 5-year-olds suspended from a shower curtain rod—securely anchored to tiled walls—can certainly create a scene reminiscent of home renovation disasters shown on basic cable DIY programs.
When the rod crashed down, we scattered like startled rodents, with me, the leading princess, taking the lead. I made it to my room 30 seconds ahead of my mother. Crammed in my sleeping bag, panting as if I had run a marathon, I pretended I had been peacefully asleep. I stammered innocently to my mother, “Wha-what was that?”
Innocence can be a fleeting state, especially when your mother is the judge, and you know you’re guilty. In such cases, it becomes, “We’ll discuss this in the morning, and if you think you’ll ever host another sleepover, think again.”
However, none of us were genuinely sleeping, were we? As my mother discovered, sleepovers are rarely about rest. She kept her word, permitting me to host only one friend at a time thereafter, particularly after the Fudgie incident left its mark on her memory.
As for me, I didn’t stick to my original plan of banning sleepovers until my kids turned 10. My eldest celebrated her 10th birthday last February and has racked up over 25 sleepovers since then.
Before she entered third grade, my daughter had been clamoring for a sleepover. “Not yet,” I would respond. “When we believe you’re ready,” we reassured her. “We don’t know that family well enough; they might have unsafe items lying around or snacks we wouldn’t approve of,” we warned.
She longed for constant companionship with her friends. I remember that desire—to talk all night until the final words slipped into a drowsy haze. Such friendship is a youthful treasure, eager to fill every moment with conversation and bonding.
By chance, the year my daughter began third grade, we grew close to a neighboring family with a daughter of the same age. The girls became fast friends; they savored Oreos the way they were meant to be enjoyed. So, when they approached me about a sleepover, I consented.
We sent our daughter to their home one night, and a week later, we hosted her friend. The evening unfolded as anticipated—filled with laughter, snacks, handmade posters celebrating their friendship, and gentle reminders from me to “head to bed.”
It marked a milestone, even if it felt like just another ordinary event in the passage of time. When my daughter was away for the first time under someone else’s roof, I sensed time speeding up. I felt a mix of pride and disappointment when she didn’t call home in the night seeking a ride. As a hostess, her easy camaraderie warmed my heart, preparing me for this new chapter.
What I had overlooked, however, is that sleepovers typically involve very little actual sleep. Setting up blankets and sleeping bags was futile, much like my attempts to encourage them to rest. The girls stayed awake late into the night and rose with the dawn, maximizing every second of their togetherness. They were no longer the little ones who’d succumb to slumber after an exhausting day; older girls seized the night to discuss how they would navigate the world.
While they might not have dismantled a bathroom setup, my daughter and her friend demonstrated that a sleepover is more accurately a “wakeover.” It’s a stayuplate, not a snoozenot.
As Inigo Montoya famously states in The Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Perhaps it should be called a giggletogether or a chattyallnight.
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Summary
The article humorously reflects on childhood sleepovers, highlighting the chaos and excitement that often accompany these events. It discusses the author’s past experiences and how they shaped current parenting decisions, ultimately revealing the true nature of sleepovers as more of a wakeful gathering than a restful night.