Go ahead, Josie. Make my day.

Did you ever skip a rite of passage as a kid only to wish you could do it as an adult?

I never had a slumber party as a kid. I went to more than I can count – and generally really liked them. I was a gold-plated, grade A, first class giggler. Slumber parties were the place where giggling didn’t earn black looks from The Grownups. They probably drove host parents to a big bottle of Advil, but at a slumber party? Giggling could well up in a mushroom cloud of noise and no one shushed you. Laughter was much, much better than the occasional pajama party  crying jag, which I probably giggled at, too.

These guys REALLY smack each other. I’d opt for a kinder, gentler impact. But I would love to have a pillow fight – with my girlfriends, a la fifth grade.

I really wanted to have a slumber party on my 12th birthday, but my sister had one not long before that, and not only did my dad’s favorite chair flip over backwards (and eject poor Betsy Ramen into the stereo console) but it might have strained my mother’s nerves.

Now, I never felt robbed or upset about not having a slumber party. But as an adult, I find myself suggesting them to my friends. They usually think it sounds like fun, but we never even pencil them in. Something about the thought of gathering with friends in pajamas to gorge on junk food, swap gossip and boards games (or marco polo!) is appealing. Silly, yes, but appealing. I’ve even daydreamed about a massive pillow fight. What a great release that would be. Stressed? Whack Ellen upside the head with a pillow. Mad at your significant other? Clothesline Josie at the knees. Happy to have all your besties together? Celebrate them all with a whirling dervish pillow punt to the gut.

The more I think about it, the more I like it. Now, where are those invitations?

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