The Return of the Sleepover

“Hey, Dad?”

“Sup man?”

“Can I have some friends over this weekend?”

“Um, yeah. Sure. Who?”

“The usual.”

“OK.”

“OK, uh, can you call their parents?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll call from work tomorrow.”

“OK.”

I like my son’s friends. They are good kids, your typical 9 and 10-year-old boys who go to school, play sports, video games, and make noise. My son’s friends are such regulars the dogs no longer bark when they come by, no matter how much noise they make.

Earlier in the school year, we went through a couple of months where J was always having someone over. That cooled off around the holidays. I guess I am a fun dad. You learn tricks when you have a younger brother and several cousins under you. Like keeping a small water bottle in your pocket. You roughhouse for a bit, toss the football around, then, when no one is looking, douse yourself so it looks like you have really worked up a sweat. Without a doubt, some considerate kid will suggest you sit out, maybe go take a nap. You wearily make it through another couple of plays, and then you excuse yourself, get something cold out the fridge, and slink off to the sofa to read. With boys, it is easy. Feed them and listen for silence. As long as they are making noise, everything is OK.

Eventually, they come inside, and you feed them once again, lay down the rules about everyone showering that evening, AND using soap, before they call their folks and wish them good night. My house is open. If it is in the fridge, eat it. If it is in public, read it, or watch it. My place is pretty kid friendly, although it is small. My sleeping quarters are on the second floor, in the attic, so eventually, I make my way upstairs and allow them to use the main floor to do them. You keep an ear open…much valuable info can be gleaned from sleepovers that you never get with, “So, Scooter, how was school today?” overall, though, you give them enough space for you to monitor them without being all over them. After all, this is about them.

I’m lying in bed, reading, thinking about the nuttiness I got into as a kid, listening through the vents for any valuable intel and listening as they play video games, do karate on one another, and prove once again that for boys, you need wooden and plaster walls. Drywall and Tyvek will not do. After about an hour of hearing solid body thuds and a couple cries of, “Hey! We agreed no weapons, remember?” They calmed down and began talking.

“Termination on the table.”

Was that MY child? Let me inch closer to the vent.

“I don’t know…the food is pretty good…”

“I have another suggestion as well. I think our food, when it is prepared here, is compromised. We are awful sleepy whenever he cooks. You noticed that?”

“OK, so before we discuss termination, we should first agree that starting tonight, any food we eat has to come from outside sources.”

“I’m gonna miss that homemade chili…”

“He puts too many vegetables in it. That’s my point.”

“Roger. OK. Termination on the table?”

“He has lived out his usefulness. It is only a matter of time before he realizes we are training for a takeover and not just being a bunch of dumb kids.”

I heard several murmurs of assent.

“Perhaps not termination?”

“Look, aside from our own mission, he is becoming a nuisance. Also, intel is telling us this guy wasn’t always this guy. He could be dangerous.”

“Dunno. He’s got some good qualities.”

I know that voice. My son’s best friend. I make it out of this alive that kid gets a Corvette for his birthday. From J’s college money.

“I liked the babe, too…She was hot...”

“My point exactly. I think he screwed that up as well. We can’t keep affording these messes.”

“When do we take him out?”

“He snores pretty good. Wait until he’s asleep.”

“The dogs?”

“Canine Support has conferred with them. His recent work schedule and downgrade in the quality of food have put them on our side. On top of that, there’s a new leader of the canine contingent, and he is loyal to me.”

“Is this personal in any way Agent J?”

“He did make me read the other day, even though I explained school was out and I read in school. He banned me from reading comics for that exercise, too.”

More murmurs, this time of disapproval.

“The vegetables…the reading…recent mistakes he made that I felt will impact my future…dammit, can’t you men tell? We need a woman in this house. Pronto. We’re losing elements of civilized living every day.”

“Where will you be based?”

“Agent Granddad has everything in place. He holds a grudge, too. Apparently Rocket Scientist up there refused to sign a waiver exempting me from school so I could practice baseball full time.”

Sounds of shock.

“Agent D?”

“We approach the target, here, once we’re sure he is asleep…” I heard scratching on a white board. “We believe he may be armed, and he is a bit on edge of late. I suggest we send Agent J up there with the old stand by: child has a stomachache. He will come barreling down the steps. We will have elimination specialists on either side of the doorway. Disposal assures us we can make it look accidental.”

“He really shoulda let us win at football that time.”

“He didn’t have to quote every line to that movie while we were watching.”

“Does he really think we don’t know he drenches himself when he gets tired? That’s insulting to our intelligence.”

“He made me cancel my Meez account, and he has reestablished communication with the maternal unit, closing many of my loopholes. And we know his penchant for befriending teachers. He made me read.”

“He’s always done OK by me. His jokes are corny, but hey, he is a dad.”

“None of you have gripes like mine. He made me watch that stupid “Smokey and the bandit” five times, and he made me read. HE MADE ME READ. Do you hear me? SCHOOL WAS CLOSED BUT I WAS HOME READING.”

“Good thing he’s unaware these so called video games are military precision hand/eye coordination modules.”

“OK. We’ll set this up to happen at zero one hundred hours. Stand strong, team.”

“Wait…”

OK. That’s my child.

“Termination off the table. “

“What? Agent J, we’ve greenlit this thing.”

“Negative, Chief. I just checked my calendar. He just got paid.”

“And?”

“I haven’t received my allowance yet.”

More murmurs.

“This is a professional squad. We will do what is best for business.”

More murmurs of assent.

“Motion to make it policy, however, no more home cooked food.”

Some murmurs of disagreement.

“We’ll compromise: tonight he has to order a pizza.”

“Agreed. Agents in favor…OK, passed.”

“Guy doesn’t realize how lucky he is.”

“True. This reading thing has to stop, however. Turn on the training module. We’ll make the pizza announcement in a bit.”

Be afraid. Be very afraid.