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According to Hofmann: To be over with sleepovers

By Mark Hofmann mhofmann@heraldstandard.Com 5 min read
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They say a manĢƵ home is his castle, but I’m guessing that phrase didn’t come into play before the idea of the kingĢƵ princess and princesses having sleepovers.

Then again, I imagine maybe they did have sleepovers at the castles back in those days, but they likely ended in bloodshed, as I recall from watching “Game of Thrones.”

A kidĢƵ sleepover is the household activity that makes me not feel like I’m at home at all, as it automatically takes away my plans to walk around in my underwear and eat cheese on the recliner.

My 12-year-old stepdaughter, Emma, recently had a friend sleep over as I found out from my wife, Amber, who said, “Emma wants her friend to come over and spend the night on Friday. Is that OK?”

“Well, no,” I said. “ItĢƵ not.”

Amber placed her hands on her hips, narrowed her eyes at me and asked why.

“Uh, I have a date with underwear, cheese and my recliner. Hello?”

My argument, it seemed, wasn’t persuasive enough to stop the arrangement from happening.

I mean, I don’t know what to do or how to act whenever Emma has one of her friends over the house for a few hours, let alone throughout the night and into the morning.

I believe my primary role is to throw food at them like the animals they are as they reside in EmmaĢƵ room where the closed and locked door muffles the sound of high-pitched laughter, horrid sounds of TikTok videos and random gunfire.

After expressing such confusion to Emma, she gave me specific instructions while her friend was over the house including: 1. Not embarrass her; 2. Not embarrass her, and 3. Not talk about “Fight Club,” which would embarrass her.

Maybe because itĢƵ a preteen girl staying over the house that I feel so unsure and awkward, as I’m still trying to figure out Emma, as sheĢƵ still in the excruciating transition into the teen years.

I wouldn’t trade Emma for the world, but if I had a son who had a friend over, I’d know exactly how to act and feel at total ease with planning activities.

“Hey, son, and … sonĢƵ friend, letĢƵ watch ‘Fight Club’ and eat beef jerky!”

That mindset is pretty evident, too, when you take notice of the differences between mothers and fathers when the dropoff/pickup occurs for these sleepovers, as the mothers seem to talk like they’re narrating an episode of “The Wonder Years.”

Mom No. 1: “You know, JessicaĢƵ siblings are so much older than her, she might as well be an only child as she feels sheĢƵ being left behind in life, but I’m so glad she found your daughter in the sea of personalities and attitudes which is elementary school.”

Mom No. 2: “I feel the same way. Darla is an only child and isn’t prone to making friends or establishing relationships, but she and your daughter were truly the beacons that they were searching for.”

Mom No. 1: “I hope they laugh together, I hope they grow together, and I hope they’re truly best friends forever.”

Mom No. 2: “Best Friends forever and ever!”

When it comes to fathers, the conversation is not as, letĢƵ say, flowery.

Dad No. 1: “Well, hereĢƵ Tommy. He already ate dinner, so you don’t need to feed him no matter how much he begs.”

Dad No. 2: “Yeah, not to worry. Him and Rick Jr. are going to be too busy fetching me beers all night to even want to eat.”

Dad No. 1: “Sounds like a plan, and if he gets out of line, don’t be afraid to slap him in the head. Ya hear that, Tommy? I’m giving Mr. Anderson permission to punish you.”

No such setup with my situation. At least Amber plans some stuff for the girls to do, getting snacks for them at the store and constantly suggesting activities for them to do.

But Emma and her friends are stubborn, and they don’t take part in AmberĢƵ suggestions for activities as they emerge from EmmaĢƵ room to come downstairs for food, pop and to sit around and play on their phones … and the friend always manages to sit in my recliner.

In the span of 24 hours, I lost count of how many times I walked into the living room, observed the trespassing on the furniture and promptly walked out to stand in the bathroom to compose myself while trying not to “stink it up because Emma has a friend over,” as per one of the instructions to avoid embarrassment.

And then Amber has the nerve to ask me why I’m cranky and don’t want to spend time with them.

“Gee, I don’t know,” I said. “I can’t watch ‘Fight Club,’ I’d have to sit on the couch like a commoner, I’m on a forced constipation, I can’t tell any dirty jokes, everything I do is an embarrassment to a 12-year-old like Emma, I need my castle back and, henceforth, I banish these girly sleepovers!”

“Well, thatĢƵ OK,” Amber said. “I wonder if Emma would invite a boy to spend the night instead.”

“In that case,” I said, “do you think the girls would like me to make them ice cream sundaes while they play on their phones on the recliner?”

According to Hofmann is written by staff reporter Mark Hofmann of Rostraver Township. His books, “Good Mourning! A Guide to Biting the Big One…and Dying, Too” and “Stupid Brain,” are available on Amazon.com.

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