The cake, my first from scratch (really my first cake, I don't think I've ever even done a box cake) was apparently edible. Actually, it got high marks and I can honestly say it did not suck. I need some practice writing with the frosting nozzle, but the cake itself was pretty much what I was aiming for, well risen and moist.
I'm still more of a pie guy.
Anyway, then we did the Big Awake Over. We called these affairs slumber parties when I was Em's age, but the term has lost currency. I remember one I went on when I was in third grade, when I stayed up past the others in the dark family room at a friend's house, watching the verboten HBO. Jaws was on, and that was exactly the kind of movie my parents did not want me watching.
I read the book that year, and I can't remember if I saw the movie first or if I'd already read the novel. I remember my oral book report on the novel almost got me kicked out of school. The teacher would say, 'That's enough,' when I'd get into some of the gory details or the marital infidelity, and she meant, 'Put a cork in it,' but it was too good a book: 'Wait, there's still more!'
Watching that flick alone in the dark at 2:00 a.m., I think that may be the only movie I've ever had actual nightmares from. It was great.
Anyway, Em's been begging to have a sleepover, and I talked to the parents of three of her most regular playmates in the neighborhood and they were all for it. Which kind of amazed me on some levels. Not that I think I'm all that deficient as a father, it's just that having someone else's child overnight, what a huge responsibility.
I made pizzas. I used red sauce for the plain cheese preferred by two of the girls. I never use red sauce because we all prefer Alfredo or olive oil instead in this house. But I didn't want to start the party off with kiddos theorizing that this was all a plot to poison them.
I did do a white pie (Alfredo) with prosciutto and black olives, and one of the guests tried it and loved it, but the plain cheese with tomato sauce was well received.
One of the kids declared that, 'Gambino's used to be my favorite pizza, but I think this is.' I'm like, yeah, this kid has my number.
One thing I found out I wasn't prepared for was just how much louder the house is with five girls instead of two. I'm talking loud like a Black Sabbath concert, except cheerful and well behaved. I might have doubts about my parent-ness, but these kids seemed to just assume that I'm actually an adult.
They played American Idol, and I got to be Simon. I don't watch TV much, and I've only seen the show in a second hand smoke sort of way, but it's easy enough to badmouth everything in a bad British accent. Except they tell me he says everything is 'appalling,' not 'excrementally bad.'
I wondered how Mo would do with the party. She doesn't relate to other kids quite the way you need to for some of the essential elements of a sleepover. She doesn't tell jokes or speculate about the relative sexiness of Orlando Bloom versus Johnny Depp. But she chatters excitedly sometimes, and you can't always make out the sentences but there are keywords to clue into what she's chattering about and I detected 'sleepover' clearly many times. And she turned out to be keen on the main element of a sleepover, which is to not sleep if you can help it. She only made it to ten, but for a kid that's normally zonked shortly after eight, not bad.
The second Pirates of the Caribbean was the movie choice. Well, we started What's Eating Gilbert Grape. It was the Birthday Girl's pick, and seconded by one of her guests who raved about it. The other two were dubious, and we gave it to the first water tower scene and chucked it for familiar ground.
It's easier to tell jokes over a movie you've all memorized.
I made popcorn for the movie, and before long, they wanted ice cream. Again.
Not a problem, but they'd just had ice cream with the cake like an hour before. This was the other thing that was kind of a shock about five girls versus two: I'm used to my two kiddos, and can anticipate a lot of their requests. They also know where to get a lot of stuff for themselves. And what to expect. They know I don't have red cream soda, they'd have seen it go into the grocery basket if I did, so they don't ask for it. The needs and wants of three kids from completely different homes keeps you on your toes.
But I didn't want them eating ice cream in the living room. The youngest is six, and I know my carpet is shot but I really don't need to beg for messes.
They didn't care about the movie, they gladly paused it to come eat ice cream. When they hit the movie again, and Mo was down, I snuck down to check my email and move in my chess games. When I came up a half hour later, the TV was off and they were back in Em's room. Doing something hilarious from the sound of it. Still, they were doing a great job of toning it down like I asked when Mo went to bed.
I told them about my sleepover memory, Jaws. Which led to a discussion of how sharks are really important, and maybe not so scary. And how wrong the fin harvesting boats out of China are, wasting entire animals that take decades to reproduce and grow those fins just for a bowl of status symbol. The six year old commented that 'you're not supposed to do that to God's creatures.' We decided that swimming in the ocean was taking a chance with sharks about like walking around a horse is taking a chance on having the daylights kicked out of you. Don't blame the animal, you're the one who walked behind it. Or swam in front of it with an open running sore or whatever.
About 1:00 a.m., I was too beat to stay up. I'd taken to reading in bed but I was staring at the same paragraph for untold minutes while the party giggled and shushed on the other side of the wall. At one point, I distinctly heard, 'It doesn't matter if her Dad is ciiidfasdf, you still can't, mmongahmpphff.'
Awhile later Em shook me to wake me up because one of the honyocks was nauseaus. I asked he she was okay, and she went to check. I had fallen back to sleep, but in any case the nausea had turned out to be a mere novelty. They got a big white bowl from the kitchen just in case and resumed staying up.
By one account, they made it to 3:50 a.m. They seemed about spent when I went down at one, but who knows?
They got up at 9:30 with screams and giggles. Which suprised me. Em will (if I let her) sleep until noon with a regular bedtime. If figured at anything past midnight she might sleep until the Martin Luther King holiday is over. When I asked them if Pop Tarts for breakfast might make them hyper, one told me, 'Too late!'
It was a gas. I've been bone tired all day, but it was worth it.
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