A Dad's Dream Come True - Part 2 : The Slumber Party

My oldest daughter, Rebecca, turned 12 in December this year.  Seeing how she was just born a year or two ago, that means that in just a few weeks she is going to be wanting to drive.

However, this post is not about driving.  I had other problems to deal with before that happens.

Since her birthday falls right exactly on Christmas Day, it is very difficult to hold birthday parties for her on her birthday with her friends.  If I was cocky enough, I'd say that my wife and I planned it that way to get out of the whole birthday party thing...you know...count backwards 40 weeks (how they get nine months out of that is one of life's mysteries) and...ahem.  Well, we didn't.   We were just lucky.

However, we have fallen into the unfortunate habit of doing something for her on, or around, her baptismal birthday.  This year, she wanted a slumber party.  As many people do when under tremendous stress and tribulation, I got a lot closer to God.  We talked about the slumber party thing a lot.  God and I decided that this would be a perfect time for a little trip out of town.  We talked to my boss who basically said I can go whenever I wanted.

God is great.

I immediately planned a little trip that would take me just about as far out of town as is possible.  Without getting into too many details (I don't want just everyone knowing about my great hiding place) I'll just say that the sun is never up on my house and where I was going at the same time.

I agreed to the slumber party.  I am such a good father!

Well, the plans progressed for the slumber party.  I completely ignored them other than nodding my head and saying "uh huh. That sounds just fine" at all the appropriate spots.  I had a trip to go on, I was already starting to lose sleep thinking of all the fun...ahem, I mean work...I would have when I arrived at my destination. 

Ahhhhhh. Life is good!

Then it happened.  An emergency at work just days before I was to leave.  My trip was off.  I was in anguish!  I forgot all about the slumber party in my anguish.  I was in mourning for my trip.  There's nothing like more stamps in the ol' passport!

Shortly after this, I eventually realized that the first shoe had dropped.  My wife, somewhat gently, reminded me of the slumber party.  Oh, no!   Now, I started losing sleep for a totally different reason.  A house full of 12 year old girls did not sound like a suitable substitute for my trip.  No.  This was not good.  Couldn't God have seen this coming?  Was he just teasing me with this whole trip idea?

That didn't seem fair. After all, I am such a good father!

In another day or two, the other shoe dropped.  Doesn't that always happen?  Why didn't I see it coming?  Why didn't God warn me?  I mean, after all, we had been talking about this, hadn't we?  Anyway, the other shoe dropped in the form of my wife announcing that her rehearsal schedule had changed and that she would now be gone most of the afternoon and evening the girls were coming over. I was going to have to stay home with...gulp...the girls.

This was certainly NOT a suitable substitute for my trip!

I tried to look at the bright side.  That's worked in the past.  I remembered all those movies that you see slumber parties in.  They seemed nice.  How bad could it be?

The fateful day came fast.  The girls started arriving.  I did what any father would do in this situation.  I went directly to my office in the basement.  God was there.  "I thought you might like some company" He said.  I shrugged.  How bad could it be?

Then the girls started screaming.  There really wasn't any kind of emergency or anything.  It seemed like they were just screaming, um, for fun.  This made no sense.   I talked to my daughter.   I said, "You guys need to calm down.  I don't want you to just be screaming all day." 

"OK, Daddy", she said. 

"That went well", I said to God.  He just smiled.  I am such a good father!  I was even inspired to come up with a little formula, using my science and engineering education.  Here it is:

Behavioral Age of Slumber Party attendees = Actual Age / Number of girls in the house

For this party, the "behavioral age" worked out to be about 2.  That seemed about right, what with all the screaming for fun and such.

Rebecca went back to her party, already in progress, and I put a CD on and went back to my work.  The talk with my daughter apparently worked, and the girls took me at my word.  Literally. They stopped "just screaming" and also starting running around like crazy for no apparent reason.

Another talk ensued and my daughter assured me that things would change.  Everything was going to be fine.  God shrugged and said, "The same thing happens to me all the time. People are always promising stuff."  I wasn't so sure my daughter understood, and I anxiously awaited signs that things were back on track.  I didn't have to wait long.  Pretty soon, the girls added slamming doors to their list of activities.  I just remembered that in all those movies, when the girls are having slumber parties, the parents ARE NOWHERE TO BE FOUND!  That concept was making a lot of sense.

I didn't want to appear to be one of those "mean dads", which is something I'm actually pretty good at.  However, I was honestly worried that my house would literally be destroyed. I didn't know what to do.   I looked to God for help.  We reached for the volume knob on the stereo at the same time and turned the music up.

"Im refy mo parked to back, nut deeds hiss groob, stew!",  God said.

"WHAT?"  I shouted.  (The music was really loud).

"I SAID, I'M REALLY MORE PARTIAL TO BACH, BUT THIS IS GOOD, TOO!"  God shouted back.  He has this awesome booming voice, just like in the movies.

I beamed.  I knew the Lutherans had it right!  Bach rules! One of the girls fell down the stairs into my office.  I didn't really pay too much attention.  I was seriously listening to music. 

Eventually my wife came home and assessed the situation.  She was planning on starting up the chocolate fountain, but quickly realized that the LAST thing these girls needed was more energy.

Since we have a very small house, all the girls eventually ended up in sleeping bags in the living room.  The living room is right outside our bedroom.  Later that night - MUCH later - as I struggled to go to sleep in the racket so I could get up and go to work the next day, I devised a plan.  It was a MEAN plan.  At 7:00, when I got up for work,  I was going to make the racket.  Yep.  I have the ability to produce nearly infinite volume at any time through one of my wonderful stereos.  One of these was in the living room.  It would scare the daylights out of those kids!

Sweet!  Oops, I'm starting to talk like the girls.  I meant to say, "Cool!"  I smiled to myself, and went to sleep.

The next morning, I was awoken at 6:30 by a sound I did not expect to hear.

It was the girls.  Apparently, they decided to get up before NOON just to spoil my plan of spoiling their sleep and exacting revenge!  This was not good at all!  This was not part of the plan!  I couldn't wait to get ready for work and have a little talk with God in the car about how this all turned out.

God was clever and put this talk off as long as he could, though.  He caused every one of those girls to need to use the bathroom for getting ready in the morning.  In our single bathroom.  In our one bathroom house.

We never did have that talk.

Comments

[Mel]

Hilarious!! This is one of my faves.

[Gregg's Dad]

I hope you are archiving your posts; they may make a good book some day.

[Jeannette]

I've pondered that whole 9 months vs. 40 weeks of pregnancy thing and it's kind of the same thing:

52 weeks minus 40 = 12. Take those twelve weeks and convert them to months: 3. One year minus three months equals 9 months.
OR
40 weeks divided by 4 = 10 (months).

I think the experts went with "9 months" so they could divide the pregnancy into trimesters as opposed to quarters.