Boy Crazy

Nathan turned seven this past week, and I told him that he could have a party. This is only fair, as Sara got one last year. The kids' birthdays are just five days apart, so we rotate who gets a kid party. The other kid gets a mom-dad-sibling party. So Nate asked for a Star Wars sleepover, and I told him he could invite four boys. Simon asked me what I had been smoking, but I was confident.

After all, Sara has had two sleepover birthdays: when she turned seven and again on her ninth birthday. They were both great. I worried about potential girl-drama, but there was hardly any. Boys, I figured, would be easy. No drama at all - just put the breakables away.

Well, it wasn't that simple. Maybe boys develop social skills more slowly? The first boy to arrive was K., Nate's bestest friend. in fact, he arrived an hour and a half ahead of schedule - his mom wanted to go to a party and "hoped I wouldn't mind taking him a little early"... He and Nate were playing happily in the fort I made with blankets and the pool table, but then the other boys showed up.

Within 10 minutes, K. was sobbing alone in a darkened room. Once the other boys showed up, Nate wasn't paying enough attention to him, he said. I pointed out to him that Nate was the host and needed to play with everyone. I encouraged him to go and join the other boys, which he sort of did, by stomping into the room where they all were, chewing out Nate and telling him they weren't friends anymore, which then made Nate cry.

Hmmm... I thought. It's going to be a long night.

Dinner was a good distraction. So was cake.

I like the notion of Darth Vader sort of popping out of the cake, like a stripper. This cake reminded me of my favorite home-decorated cake, which was for Sara's seventh birthday. She wanted a My Little Pony cake, and I found tiny plastic Pretty Ponies at a discount store. But they were highly flammable, and when I lit the candles, the ponies burst into flame and died in fearful, contorted agony. Luckily, Sara thought it was funny.

As we were about to light the candles, I noticed that one little boy, S., was missing. A quick search found him in Nate's room, alone, playing with toys. "S., it's time for cake. Are you going to come and sing 'Happy Birthday?" "Nah." "Is everything all right?" "Yeah. I don't really like cake. And I like Nate's toys. I want to play here. Call me, though, when it's time for presents." I realized that his kid was drama-free. He just wanted an uninterrupted run at the toys without having to share anything. I shrugged and went to light the candles.

And that's how the night went. They drove each other nuts the whole time. Nate opened his presents, and the boys pounced on them. Within half an hour, they had built both the Bionicles and one of the Lego spaceships. Nate didn't seem to mind, but I finally insisted that they not build the other Lego spaceship, so Nate would have it to build another time.

One kid or another was always mad / sad / boycotting the other boys. At first, I worried about it; but after a while I reached saturation level and just let them work it out. I figured as long as it wasn't always the same boy who was upset, and the trauma was evenly spread among them, good enough. Finally 9:30 rolled around. (God, had it only been three hours? Twelve hours to go...) I managed to wrangle everyone into pajamas and sleeping bags, then put on Star Wars III. I figured, "Oh, they're worn out from running around and screaming. They will get all droopy-eyed here in a few minutes." No, they spent most of the movie bugging the hell out of each other by making noise and then telling each other to shut up. I finally had to decree that each boy had to stay on his own sleeping bag, to keep them from killing each other.

It was almost midnight when the movie ended. Lights out. Go to sleep. ""SHHHHHH!" "BE QUIET!" "NO, YOU BE QUIET!!" "OK, ON THE COUNT OF THREE, BE QUIET! One, two, three." "Eep." "QUIET!" This is standard slumber party - I remember doing it myself; I left them to it and went to get ready for bed. I was standing naked in my bedroom when I heard little feet running down the hall and it didn't sound like one of my kids. I barely managed to snatch my pajamas to my bosom when K. appeared in front on me, hands on hips, enraged. "They're saying bad words out there!" I went to the living room. "Guys. Cut it with the bad words." Back to my room. I had just got toothpaste on the brush when Sara called out, "Mom! Nate's crying! Mom!" Back I went. Nate was subbing that no one was being friends, and that he has lost K.'s friendship forever. Oh, for Pete's sake. Sounds like K. was working his special magic again. I said, "All right. I'm just going to stand here until you settle down." And I stood there in the dark, like a cigar-store Indian with my arms crossed. A couple of times, K. started to say something. I just tapped his pillow with my foot and said, "Don't start." Eventually Nate's sobs faded into snoring and everyone went to sleep.

Next morning, they were in a slightly better frame of mind. I finally put my foot down with K., though. I heard him say to Nate, "I want that toy that S. has. I want to play with it. " Nate said, "Well, S. is playing with it right now." "You have to tell him he can't have it any more and give it to me, or I won't be your friend." Sure enough, Nate goes to S., and says, "Sorry, S.. K. says I have to give this to him or he won't be my friend." Uh-uh. I took the toy back from Nate and gave it back to S.. I said to K., "Another kid is playing with that, now. You can wait until he's finished. Go play with something else." "But I want to play with that." "Tough."

Nate told me later that I would have to be careful. "You'll get a reputation for being a scary mom." Suits me.