First Born Male Child has an awesome friend who lives up the street. I call him “Jiminy Cricket” because he is often FB’s conscience when they are together. I credit JC for saving FB from himself and me on a regular basis. I’ve even offered him a lifetime supply of grilled cheese sandwiches (his kryptonite) if he would come live with us to be a constant good influence on his friend. Alas, he turns down my offer every time, because he regularly witnesses the crazy factory that is my house. Smart kid.
Over the Labor Day weekend, FB had a sleepover at JC’s house. They informed me that it was going to be “epic.” Now normally if FB says that something he’s going to do is going to be “epic,” I get twitchy, nervous and come up with a million ways to say NO. Epic things never end well. But I know JC’s mom and she’s pretty awesome. They have five kids and she runs a tight ship. She’s actually sort of my idol — I mean she makes it all look so easy compared to the psych ward I run over here. I figured if anyone could handle an “epic sleepover” it would be her.
So FB and JC packed up the wagon with FB’s important slumber party gear, which included a ridiculous number of pillows, blankets, electronic devices, probably a few light sabers and other essentials including toothpaste. (Go figure. Toothpaste but probably not clean underwear. Hmmm.) Off they trudged up the street the quarter mile to JC’s house looking like preteen versions of Fred Sanford hauling the bizarre collection of junk. Good luck Mrs. Cricket. They’re all yours.
Fast forward to 2:00 AM. I’m awoken suddenly from a deep sleep. There is a fierce storm raging outside — torrential rains, house-shaking thunder and daylight-like lightning. “I swear I heard the doorbell ring! Nah. Must have been my dream.” A few seconds later, there’s knocking on the front door.
“Holy hell! What is going on! Who’s out there?!?” I violently shake snoring, comatose Husband awake. “There’s someone at the door!!!”
“Huh? What? Who’s at the door? Which door? What?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!!!!! GET UP!!!! GO FIND OUT!!!!!” He stumbles around looking for his robe and goes to investigate. I’m thinking it’s a bad prank, or something horrible has happened and a neighbor needs help or it’s the police.
Then my phone rings. It’s Mrs. Cricket. My blood ran cold.
“FB left our house and walked home. Mr. Cricket is coming over to find him.” I’m not sure what I answered her with, but it was probably something involving a lot of profanity. I ran down the hall yelling, “IT’S MR. CRICKET! FIRST BORN WALKED HOME!!!!”
Husband starts freaking out too, “WHAT?!?! WHERE IS HE?!?!”
“I DON’T KNOW!!!!”
Then I hear behind me from the kids’ bathroom, “Mom! I’m right here! What’s going on?!?”
I think I screamed and spewed some of my better curses. Husband went and let a very soggy Mr. Cricket know FB is safe, apologized profusely and returned to bed, leaving me to deal with the wreckage. I ran back to find my phone so I could call Mrs. Cricket to let her know everyone is okay. I found three missed calls, a voice mail and four text messages. CRAP! My ringer had been turned down, and I didn’t hear it over the storm, Husband’s snoring and the crazy dream I’d been having. I was practically in tears when I called Mrs. Cricket, just imagining the sheer panic she must have been feeling…that was caused by my child! She was relieved, and we agreed to talk in the morning.
I went back down the hall to FB’s room to demand an explanation. He was completely befuddled as to why everyone was freaking out. “But Mom! I told Jiminy and his brother that I was going home. Jiminy’s brother was snoring so loud I couldn’t sleep at all!!”
“So you decided to walk home?!?!? The Crickets are FREAKING OUT. WE ARE FREAKING OUT! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!?!?”
“But I TOLD Jiminy and his brother! I don’t see what’s the big deal. I came in through the garage and came up and took a bath. What? You didn’t hear me?!”
Ummm…Evidently not. I guess I’m a deeper sleeper than I thought. Jeez. What a cluster. I sent him to bed and told him we’d talk about it in the morning. I felt the toxic levels of adrenaline trying to exit my body and decided it was no use going back to bed. I stayed up until 5:30 trying to calm down and to figure out what to do with my dear child in the morning. As much as I wanted to throttle the living daylights out of him, he hadn’t done it to be malicious. He just wanted to get some sleep. “BUT WHAT WAS HE THINKING?!?!? Oh the poor Crickets. I couldn’t imagine the sheer terror they must have been feeling, thinking they were going to have to tell me that they lost my child!” I cried awhile, then decided that FB was going to write the most sincere apology card ever known to man, buy flowers for Mrs. Cricket with his own money and then humbly deliver them to the Crickets in person.
The next morning we talked, and I explained to FB the seriousness of what he did. He felt awful that he had created such a drama and had scared everyone so much. He worked hard on a card and carefully picked out the best bouquet of flowers for Mrs. Cricket. We delivered them and had a good laugh together over the insanity of it all.
Turns out they did the regular boy sleepover things like played video games, probably laughed about farts and other stinky boy stuff and eventually went to bed. JC’s an early-to-bed/early-to-rise kid…FB, not so much. He’s a night owl like me and the trucker-like snoring of Jiminy’s brother was just too much for FB to get to sleep. Instead of covering his ears with one of the multitude of pillows, going downstairs to sleep on the couch, or even going in to ask Mrs. Cricket to call me to pick him up, my First Born Male Child decided to take matters into his own hands and felt it necessary to prank Lumberjack sleeping away across the hall. This is where the toothpaste…and shaving cream…came into play. *SIGH.* Yeah. I don’t really know the extent of it but from what we were able to piece together, the bathroom garbage can was filled with shaving cream, toothpaste was all over and poor JC’s brother ended up with crunchy and minty fresh hair.
So I guess I’ll be adding, “don’t walk home in the middle of the night during a violent rainstorm” to the list of things to remind him of before he goes to another sleepover. To my First Born’s guardian angel, I offer my sincerest gratitude and apologize for how hard she must have to work on a regular basis.
PS: Could you do me a huge favor? The stats I get on my blog views are being wonky. Could you please “like” this post at the bottom here so I can see if my stats are accurate? I hope this little gem gave you a good giggle and made you realize you do indeed have your act together compared to me. Thanks for reading!