Thirteen Candles

This weekend is my son’s birthday and my sweetheart suggested that he invite a couple of friends over to spend the night after school on Friday. It’s funny how fuzzy communication can garner some unexpected results. It seems that throughout the last week, invitations had been extended to several boys, but there were numerous conflicts that made it appear that no one would be able to attend. The twins had a baseball tournament the following morning. One friend had family in town visiting and wouldn’t be available. Another kept forgetting to ask his parents and so couldn’t commit to attending. As the day of the party approached and no one had R.S.V.P.’d, my sweetheart made last minute arrangements to pick up one of my son’s best friends who lives a couple of hours away to stay for the weekend. (He usually only gets to see him at the deer lease, so this was a very big surprise.)

The school day ended and my son got off the bus. As I watched him make his way down the driveway I could see he was alone, and I sent a text message to my sweetheart with a frowny-face saying that it looked like no one was able to attend after all.

As the afternoon wore on, I heard my son talking excitedly on the phone. There were several, “OK, well, call me back as soon as you know,” and “I think so-and-so is coming,” so maybe things were looking up, I thought. Shortly before my sweetheart came home, I heard, “I really don’t know how many people are coming now. There could be, like, ten!” Uh-oh. My sweetheart arrived and sent our son outside to get the phone that he’d “forgotten” in the truck. His buddy was waiting in the truck and he was surprised at this special guest.

My sweetheart asked me if there was any word on other attendees for the event, and I told him he’d better ask our son about that, with a knowing wink.

Fast forward an hour or two and there are now nine boys at our house, hooting and hollering, throwing balls from various sports at one another, and generally creating a whirlwind of pubescent noise and destruction. In a stroke of genius, my sweetheart took them all to the bowling alley for a marathon session of bowling, pizza, wings, and eight pitchers of soda. He kindly sent me home after we got them settled and took a metaphorical bullet for me.

After they got home, there were some things going bump in the night, so to speak. Including my daughter yelling, “Y’all better knock it off right now!” at 2:30 in the morning when they were knocking on her door and trying to sneak into her room. But as dawn arrived, everyone was out cold and sprawled around the living room floor.

I made a big breakfast for them, including two-and-a-half pounds of bacon, twenty eggs, thirty pancakes, and a gallon of milk. Only one-and-a-half pancakes remained after they were finished, and these were only left over because they had finished all of the syrup.

Throughout the day the population dwindled and now things are almost back to normal. All that’s left is the crying cleaning.

Leave a Reply