Sweet Dreams Sweet Sweaty Prince

The GFYO is at his first sleepover tonight, with an even more giant GFYO. They make quite a pair: both super-sized, speech-impeded and teeth either dangling or all the way out. They look like two goons after a bar fight. It's so sweet, really.

I sent the GFYO off to gather clothes for his backpack. Fifteen minutes later I went to check on his progress and found him shirtless, still in his sandy soaking swim trunks, with one dirty tee-shirt (plucked from the hamper) wadded into a ball. He smiled so hugely, I was sure right then his tooth would pop out, and he said, "All set, mom!"

Oh little dude, I said.

A clean set of tomorrow clothes, a dry pair of board shorts, and a tooth brush I know he won't use, and he was good to go. "Wanna bring your blanket?" I asked. Naaah, he said. "Your dog?" Nope, he said.

A quick round of two-on-two soccer in the back yard and off we went, the two GFYOs, and Bridget and Rory and Sam the Dog too. All of us packed in the car, for what? A two minute ride two streets away? I guess that's how we roll for a first sleepover.

Sam the Dog seemed unimpressed (except for "weeeee! I'm drivvvinnnggg!") but the girls were entirely undone. "Omigod, mom, is he gonna be okay?" "Omigod, mom, what if his tooth falls out?"

I shouldn't have told them that the GFYO was gnawing the collar of his clean shirt not two seconds in the door -- "oh, he's so gonna call home later" one of 'em said. Maybe I should have told them how he barely said goodbye to me, barely listened when I reminded him to be polite and sweet and a good listener. And that I loved him. I should have told them that this is how the first sleepover goes: half crazy nervous, half see ya homies.

Like they did once, so will he now -- sleep in someone else's house, without me, without us, for the first time tonight. And as I have done two times before, I will pretend to be cool about it, I will act all wikkid awesome seasoned mom about it, but when I peak in his room later and see his empty bed, I will be none of those things, not one.

Tomorrow however? When I am not awakened at 7am or some other ungodly hour (I am not a morning person) with a question about raccoons or tornadoes or the usual -- is today the day we talked about the other day, like, is today that day now? Yeah. I'll be okay skipping the early morning, pillow-headed existential philosophy chat with my GFYO.

I'll be just fine. Tomorrow.