The Sons, Interrupted had a few friends over on Saturday night. We love N and G; they’re welcome any time.
When they come over, they follow the usual Young Guy Sleepover Routine: eat at least a pizza apiece, drink copious amounts of ginger ale or root beer, a metric tonne of chips, and then game all night on various gaming consoles scattered throughout the house. They usually fall asleep at roughly 5 a.m., if they fall asleep at all.
We love having them over, but as an habitual early riser, even on the weekends, I frequently trip over one or more of them sprawled all over my family room, as all of them, including the Sons, Interrupted, tend to fall asleep like four year olds…they just keel over where they sit.
The kitchen generally looks like war-torn Sarajevo, too, after a session like this. (I won’t post any pictures, because that could induce PTSD)
This presents a problem when I want to have a cup of coffee and Skype with Jane.
But not this time.
When I woke up Sunday morning, the kitchen was spotless, and the family room was devoid of sprawling people.
Of course, they had just started the dishwasher and headed upstairs to sleep when I walked out of my bedroom at 6 a.m., but still.
© E. Stocking Evans 2014
Mom, Interrupted 