The overdue sleepover pick-up.

It is Sunday morning and the child we’ve had for a sleepover should have been picked up over an hour ago. My wife and I are discussing how best to show disapproval to the child’s parents without seeming petty…

When they arrive,” I say, “I think we should be standoffish.” 

Yes,” agrees my wife, “standoffish and violent.”

No. You can’t be violent with other parents,” I say.

It’s the only reason I had kids.”

The sleepover kid stomps down the stairs…

I want Spaghetti Hoops,” it says. It’s been saying that since it got dropped off. I think they’re the only two words that it knows. I half expected him to turn into one during the night and roll down the stairs.

I fish out the tin opener, remove the lid and slide the hoops into the microwave. I turn around and I am slightly startled to see the sleepover kid stood motionless, staring at me.

“Spaghetti Hoops,” it says.

I’m doing them,” I reply, and point to the hoops rotating around the microwave.

Ping! Goes the microwave. I put the steaming hoops in a bowl and set them on the kitchen table. The kid sits down.

Spoon,” it says.

Get your own spoon,” says my wife as she glides across the kitchen, like a gunslinger entering a bar to get rid of the local menace.

You can’t say that,” I whisper.

Of course I can,” she says and points to the kid, “He’s thirteen.” 

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2 thoughts on “The overdue sleepover pick-up.

  1. I always hated my teen having sleepovers,can’t walk around in baggy grey pants in case some young lad wanders in on you pouring your cornflakes while singing along to Billy Joel and let’s be honest it’d be on Snapchat quicker than you can shout ‘oi you little sh*t’

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