Abigail is eight years old. For whatever reason, this seems to be the age of the sleepover. Or maybe it’s an Abu Dhabi thing… Regardless, I hate sleepovers. Especially at eight. Especially in a new country.
Another sleepover invitation has come home today. This one isn’t even for a classmate. This is for the sibling of a classmate. Seriously? Abby is excited… poor thing, she never gives up hope! She, of course, cries when I say I am not comfortable with the sleepover. Here’s the thing… first, I don’t know these people. Never met ‘em. Secondly, I don’t know exactly where they live but I know it’s in the city somewhere… as in not 5 minutes away. Thirdly, I just don’t get it. Why can’t kids just have a normal party at this age? I mean, thirteen or fourteen years old: OK. But Eight???
She’s crying… I feel bad… rewind, replay for every other invite that she has received. Time for a different approach.
Me: “Abby, imagine if you had a huge, shiny, beautiful diamond. You loved this diamond and it was worth millions of billions of dollars. Now imagine if someone sent you a note to your home asking if they could borrow the diamond from you to keep overnight. You don’t know the people who sent the note, you don’t know where they would be taking the diamond. Would you let them borrow the diamond?”
Abby: Sniffled “No” from the backseat.
Me: “Ok,” I say… “Well you are my diamond. Except you are even more beautiful and worth even more than any diamond in the whole world. This is why I cannot send you to someone else’s home to be taken care of, looked after. I cannot let someone that I do not know, be responsible for you, just like you wouldn’t send your diamond off with a stranger either.”
Abby: (After some processing of this info, through her tears) “I am still upset that I cannot go but I do understand what you are saying.”
Me: ”Sometimes having a Mom that loves you more than anything can be a blessing and a curse.”‘
Abby: ”MOM! Am I ever a curse to you?”
Me: “No babe, you are only ever a blessing to me.”
Abby: In her sweetest voice ever… ”Mom, it’s true, you are kind of a curse to me.”
Me: (punch to the gut!) “Gee thanks Ab!”
Abby: (back pedaling, LOL!) “Well you are mostly a blessing but I really want to go to sleepovers so that part is kind of a curse”
Me: Laughing… cursing myself for teaching her the blessing and curse stuff!
She wanted to talk more about it. The horse was not dead quite yet in Abby’s eyes.
Me: “Ab, there are so many things in this world that can go wrong. Those things are for adults to worry about. Someday when you get big you will understand. In the meantime, I would rather you be frustrated with me than know about all the bad things out there. You will have to trust me.”
I know there is like a ridiculously small chance of anything happening to her at a sleepover. And I have let her sleepover at a party earlier this year. The mother sent a note, explaining the party details, explaining the small amount of children, giving a background of her and her husband, etc. I was able to meet the mother before the party… I still almost said no, but I relented at the last minute… I had a good vibe from the situation. And I am not saying I will never let it happen again. However, I seriously cannot imagine sending a blanket invite to a class…expecting people I do not know to send me their daughter’s over night. What is the matter with these people? I know some will disagree with this stance. I can’t worry about what other people think. I can’t worry if Abby or her friend’s think I’m not a cool mom. In the grand scheme of life, sleepovers, or the lack thereof, at eight years old are not going to break her. But her, my, life changing forever or ceasing to exist only takes a split second. That’s not a risk/reward I am willing to chance. I guess I am stuck with my mean mommy name tag for a little while longer!
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