My girls have officially entered sleepover age. And there’s something about it I love. Especially in a small apartment like mine, it’s like a chance to peek into their developing social worlds, to eavesdrop on how they talk to their friends, what songs they’re singing, which “sassy” hand games they’ve learned.
I spent my own grade school years trading my bed for spot on a shag carpeted floor nearly every Friday night and the memories are awesome. Mostly.