My daughter had her first sleepover this weekend.
It was a long time coming. Her very best friend, a girl she has known since kindergarten, is near impossible to arrange any sorts of playdates with. Her mom works full time. Her dad, a retired police sergeant, is busy running the older son around to after school activities but has a rule that the daughter cannot have playdates without her mom or dad there.
Given this statute, let’s just say I didn’t even bother pursuing a sleepover with her. I’m sure we wouldn’t pass a background check.
Anyway, we have other options. We have family friends who have a lovely daughter a year older than mine, and they have known each other for years. They are a little less picky about where they leave their kid, apparently, even going so far as to trust ME of all people with her. Fortunately for me. My daughter was delighted.
I had all sorts of activities set up- movies, popcorn, fashion shows, crafts, I don’t know, all that giggly stuff little girls do. But this little girl doesn’t have a dog, so of course Brody was the center of attention. Not that he minded.
Aside went the crafts, the popcorn, and the Barbie movie, all in favor of giving Brody some much craved attention and love. He was eating it up. He was eating everything up, including this girl’s pillow pet, her burrito, and some kettle corn. They are getting a dog next month. I consider this a valuable learning experience for her about living with a canine. I hope she realizes the value of that, someday.
Anyway, I heard them upstairs giggling and laughing and Brody tromping around. Then a squeal, and down the girls come, flying down the stairs. They had been playing tug-of-war with Brody. He has lots of toys laying about for this purpose, but in the interest of some semblance of order, I guess someone had put them away. So he improvised.
It took the girls a few minutes before they realized they were playing tug-of-war with a pair of underpants he retrieved from a hamper. Oh, dear god. At least it wasn’t the cop’s kid who was over. I would probably be in jail.
So if they are reading this, I swear, we do have actual dog toys around here and I don’t force them to use soiled undergarments for lack of better options. Promise. Please let your daughter come over again. She was lovely.