I Tried to Have a Sleepover With My 3-Year-Olds. I Lasted Until 9:05.

I had such a cute idea.

This is how most parenting mistakes begin.

I decided that James and Kate, my two three-year-olds, could have a sleepover with me in the guest room.

Not because anyone needed to sleep in the guest room. Not because there was a storm or a broken air conditioner or any practical reason whatsoever.

Just because it would be special.

And every once in a while, I get this overwhelming maternal urge to make something special when everyone involved would probably be happier if I just left bedtime alone.

So we piled into the guest room.

There were blankets. There were pillows. There were two extremely excited three-year-olds and one mother who had apparently forgotten everything she knew about three-year-olds.

At first, it was adorable.

They snuggled next to me.

They whispered.

They giggled.

They told me they loved me.

“I love you, Mommy.”

“I love you SO MUCH, Mommy.”

More giggling.

More wiggling.

Someone needed to tell me something very important.

Then the other one needed to tell me something equally important.

Then they needed to tell each other something.

Then they needed to tell me they loved me again.

And listen: there are worse problems in the world than lying in bed while two tiny people repeatedly tell you how much they love you.

It was objectively precious.

It was also 9:05 p.m.

I looked at the clock.

I looked at James.

I looked at Kate.

Neither child appeared remotely interested in sleeping.

And suddenly I remembered something important:

The special sleepover had been going on for approximately one bedtime too long.

But they were happy. They were cozy. They were still whispering and giggling and periodically reminding me that they loved me.

And honestly, I probably would have let it go on a little longer.

Then Chet heard the voices from the guest room and came in to see what was happening.

At which point it became fairly obvious that our “sleepover” had turned into three people lying in a bed having a very cheerful conversation at 9:05 at night.

So that was the end of Special Night.

James went back to his bed.

Kate went back to hers.

And within minutes?

Both kids were asleep.

Of course.

Apparently they really had been tired. They just weren’t going to waste a perfectly good sleepover by sleeping.

And maybe that was enough anyway.

They got to pile into the guest bed with Mommy. They stayed up later than usual. They giggled under the covers and told me they loved me approximately 400 times.

It didn’t turn into the cozy all-night sleepover I had imagined.

But for an hour or two, it was special.

And at three years old, maybe that’s all a special night really needs to be.

Especially when everyone has school in the morning.

Next time I feel compelled to create some elaborate magical childhood moment, I’m going to try something simpler.

Like ice cream.

At 4 p.m.