Benjamin has been wanting to have a sleepover with me for a few weeks now.  He got to have them with Grandma the whole time we were visiting the US last month (which he loved).  This time, he wanted to host me for a living room campout in his tent.

I like to be an enthusiastic mom.  I like to play pretend, I like to race my kids around the house, I like to paint and color with them, I love playing with them at the park.  But a night of sleeping on our hardwood floors with only a thin sheet of nylon for “padding” does not appeal to me.  Besides, short as I am, the tent was made for little kids to play in, not for grown ups to sleep in, so even I would have to contort into an uncomfortalbe position to fit.

So, we made a compromise.  I’m going to camp out on the futon and B is going to camp in his tent.  We pulled the tent right up to the edge of the futon, so he can poke his head out and ‘check on me’ if he needs to.  We have our sleeping bags, our “campfire” (light up music cube) and our lantern.  As I write this, he tells me he’s sleeping, but I think he’s waiting for me to get myself snuggled in to my campsite before he closes his eyes.

I think we’re all set.  No more writing for me tonight — it’s camping time.