Sleepovers

How could I have forgotten? Sleepovers aren’t fun for the adult and they equal tired, grumpy kids the next day. Actually make that diabolical monsters.

Of course they were never going to sleep without getting the giggles, trashing their room, then having a falling out, in that order – with ten million growlings thrown in amongst it.

It seemed like a good idea over a few wines when Miss Sixes mother and I organised for her daughter to have a sleepover with Miss Five.

The two got on well enough. I’d let them sleep downstairs in the kids' lounge, got everyone to bed and just settled upstairs when it started. The thundering on the stairs that is.

The first child popped up.

“Mum, I can hear the girls talking and I think they’re out of bed.”

“Thank you but you’re out of bed right now so do you think that’s any better?”

Master Seven slunk back down to his room.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, up pops Master Five.

“Mum, they just snuck upstairs into my room.”

I sent him back to bed and went down to investigate.

“Shhh, your mum’s coming,” (giggle, giggle.)

All, of course, was still by the time I got down the bottom floor. I’ve long given up trying to sneak up on the kids and catch them out – the creaky stairs gives it away every time.

A reprimand followed, along with several subsequent trips. Next it was the girls turn to bowl upstairs.

“Oh what now?!” I finally exploded.

They actually recoiled in fear.

“W-w-we’re scared downstairs,” Miss Five whimpered. “We’re scared of baddies.”

“And we’re scared of your mean cat that attacks girls,” spoke up Miss Six (another story).

“We want to sleep upstairs,” they finished.

“Well that’s not going to happen because your brother is already asleep in your room so there’s no room.”

I sent them back down with their tails between their legs and returned to Packed to the Rafters.

In the ad break I could still hear them. By now it was nearly 9pm, Miss Five had a school trip the next day and Miss Six a Pippin’s event. I stomped back downstairs, grabbed the spare mattress and dragged it upstairs. I had turned into a dragon and was dreading what Miss Six would go home and tell her mother.

However, all must’ve been forgiven for, come 6am the next day, she waltzed into my room with the others.

The following night, while my friend and I were dealing with our respective beside-themselves daughters, the oldest had a friend over.

“Now you’re not going to carry on like your sister did last night are you?” I had pre-warned.

He swore he wouldn’t. Whatever. They carried on in much the same manner until 10pm before I found him upstairs alone in his own bed and asked why.

It turns out they’d had a falling out after one hassled the other about girlfriends. No matter, they went straight to sleep and their BFF relationship was back on in the morning – at 5.38am no less!

As Murphy’s Law would have it, my one glimmer of hope that I’d be granted a mini sleep-in the following morning did not come to fruition. Instead I had three little monsters to deal with after school.