Sleepover Saturdays

On Christmas Day, quite by accident, Little A had his first ever "sleepover" at my parents' house. I wondered if that might be a one off or if we were marking another milestone, quietly.

One month later, Big A and I were off to Europe for a whirlwind twelve days. Our ninth wedding anniversary, two trade fairs, and three cities. We started off midweek in wintry Prague, where we stayed in a gorgeous hotel, but did not get a fast enough Internet connection to complete any video calls with Little A.

Come the weekend, we arrived in Frankfurt for the first of the trade fairs. The internet was quick and efficient, just like its host nation. We discovered that Little A had spent Saturday night at my parents' and Sunday morning sitting in church (not quite still and perfectly quietly, but well enough, considering it was a children's mass). The following Saturday night, by which time we were at the tail end of our trip and leaving London after three days' holiday post-trade fair, Little A again slept at my parents' house, all the night through on a large mattress on the floor normally shared by my two nieces whose parents travel for work much more frequently.

Two weeks back home, and there was a school holiday. It was a friend's 40th birthday quite near my parents' house the night before, so I asked Little A if he wanted to sleep at his grandparents'. He certainly did! The minute I dropped him off, it was as if I was no longer there. He got right into the routine, begging my dad to play the piano. 

The following morning, as I rushed around doing work and bank errands, Little A rode my dad's golf cart, went swimming amd visited the town centre to ride the children's train. He had a full, eventful, fun day, by the sounds of it.

Big A and I now feel slightly less guilty about long weekends spent away, just the two of us. Little A seems to enjoy sleepovers, so perhaps this will be the start of a new weekend tradition.