Those of you who have never had the responsibility of planning a church event don’t know what you’re missing. I’m at that stage where my head aches and I’m immobilized by the weight of details tangled together like the world’s largest rubber band ball. Only fifty-three children are signed up, which can mean two things: 1) Our event will be smaller this year than normal (to which I would say YA-HOO!) or 2) Forty children plan to sign up at the last minute on Monday morning (to which I would say NO! JUST NO!).
And, just for the fun of it, I’ve agreed to let my boys have two friends “sleep” over tonight . . . and I do use the word “sleep” very loosely since they fully intend to stay up all night long giggling and playing games.
. . . so much time passed since I wrote that last sentence that I realized I have nothing more to say tonight, other than this simple declaration: I HATE SLEEPOVERS.
Also? I HATE SLEEPOVERS. Oh wait. I already said that.