My First Post (a.k.a. The One In Which I Doubtfully Organise A Sleepover)

I’ve never been a fan of sleepovers. Just hearing the word makes me shudder. Whenever I used to be invited to sleepovers I’d try and avoid them, make up excuses like “I’ve got a family occasion tonight, sorry” and “I’m staying at my Grandparents’ tonight…”. I don’t know what it was about them that I didn’t like, but for some reason I just detested the idea of sleeping at somebody else’s house, in their room, in their Z-beds, and eating their cereal from their bowls in the morning.

So when Littleboy1 came running up to me (who was sipping white wine on the sun-lounger on the outside porch, having the time and peace of her life) waving the phone in my face, I panicked slightly. I wasn’t expecting any phone calls, and if it was from my mother then Littleboy1 would have known to tell her I was out or asleep with a migraine.

“Who is it?” I mimed, placing my glass down hesitantly.

Littleboy1 shrugged and thrust the receiver at me. Thanks a lot, Littleboy1. You’re a great help, aren’t you?

“Hello?” I said, holding the phone against my ear. I was mentally crossing my fingers that my mother’s voice would not bounce through my ear and down into my brain where it would then settle and ring inside my head for a couple of hours, torturing me…

But it wasn’t.

“Hi!”

The reply was a happy, peppy, perky voice, possibly almost fake.

“This is Julie,” she proceeded. “I am Littleboy1’s friend Jake’s mum. Apparently you said Jake can come round for a sleepover tonight? Littleboy1 told Jake you’d allowed it.”

This was news to me. I glared at Littleboy1 with eyes that read ‘You lying little twit’.

“Of course, if today is a bad time, we could always arrange it for another night?”

This woman was acting as though she was the organiser of this little shin-dig, which pissed me off a bit.

“Uh…no, today is fine.”

I surprised myself a little there. I should have told her I actually knew nothing about this, but that would more or less ruin Littleboy1’s reputation, and categorize him as a ‘Liar’ and that’s all he needed, starting big school…

“Oh, perfect!” came the shrill reply, almost straightaway. “Should Jake have his tea at home or are you willing to cook him up a little something?”

What the hell was this, a charity event? Willing to cook him something. Did she think I was Satan?

“I wouldn’t mind cooking tea for Jake too,” I replied through gritted teeth. I already hated this woman.

“That’s wonderful! What time is best for you? We usually sit down at the table round about 5.”

I didn’t really want to know what her schedules were. Who does this woman think she is?

“Is half 5 okay?” I said.

“That’s absolutely divine! Littleboy1 wrote down your address on a sticky note, so we’ll be round there no problem. I’ll see you then!”

Then she hung up.

I felt like strangling Littleboy1 at that moment for getting me into this mess.

“Why did you lie to Jake, Littleboy1?” I asked, going inside the house and pouring my wine down the sink (I know, I know, good alcohol gone to waste, but I really felt I had lost my wine-related appetite).

“Sorry, Mummy, but I really want a sleepover!”

I sighed. It wasn’t really Littleboy1’s fault, I suppose. It’s mine for letting it all happen. Then again, I have someone else to blame.

The wine.