The Boy’s birthday party is tomorrow: he wanted to have a backyard campout with his best friends, so there will be seven boys having a pre-campfire Nerf war and six boys (one can’t stay over) sleeping in our backyard. At least in theory.

Sleepovers are always a bit touchy: I remember having problems with sleepovers, and once I left at about eleven at night to go back home to sleep. It was only across the street, so it was no inconvenience for anyone, but still — it was only across the street. One would have thought I could manage it one night a few hundred feet away from my parents. I guess I was about seven or eight when that happened.

We’ll see tomorrow. “It will be fine,” K assures me, and I’m certain she’s right. But who knows: one of us might be driving a tired little boy home tomorrow, or waiting with him while a tired mom comes to pick him up.