My first sleepover at a friend’s house was in second grade, and the only thing I remember is getting a volcanic tummy ache on canned barbecue.
There’s something about that first night away from home — and away from Mom and Dad — that sticks in a child’s mind.
For the last few weeks, our 7-year-old son had been lobbying to spend a night at a friend’s house. Short of us calling his buddies’ parents and fishing for an invitation, he had to wait for lightning to strike.
Finally, the long hoped-for text came on Saturday morning. Would he like to come over and watch movies, play at the creek and — here’s the glory part — SLEEP OVER?
“Yes, yes, yes,” my son announced, breaking into the happy dance.