Of all the memorable things that have happened at our granddaughters’ first sleepover in the past two years, vanilla frosting on the kitchen table after making cupcakes, nearly freezing to death in an inflatable pool that went right down, and eating burnt popcorn while watching Encanto in ’87 Another time that will go down in family history was when my wife Sue had to sit on the bathroom floor with a glass of wine because one of the girls wouldn’t get out of the tub.

Grandchildren, as always ours, can please, but they can also get drunk. And not from a glass.

“Lily,” Sue pleaded, “it’s time to get out of the bath.”

“I want to stay, Nini,” replied Lily, who at almost 6 years old owns a gun (in this case, a water gun).

So Sue did the only thing an impatient grandmother could do: she went downstairs, poured herself a glass of wine, got up and sat on the bathroom floor with the much-needed product while Lily splashed and soaked and sang until she was done. finally ready to get out of the soapy bath and dry off.

Water dripped onto the tiles. Fortunately, the wine did not become stale.

Lily and her older sister Chloe, who is 9, were looking forward to the sleepover. So was Sue and I.

The girls arrived (with dad Guillaume) a little after noon. After we ate pizza for lunch, the first session of the weekend began as Sue let Chloe do a load of laundry.

“Nini never lets me wash my clothes,” I said.

“Maybe you’re not doing it right, Poppy,” Chloe suggested.

Under Sue’s direction, Chloe did a great job.

She was also great at helping Sue make the cupcakes (opening and closing the oven door was my help) and then frosting them.

Here’s where things got a little messy. The frosting may have been the icing on the cupcakes, but it also managed (again, with my help) to get onto the tablecloth, which went right into – that’s right – another batch of laundry.

Most of the creamy confection ended up on Lily, who had it all over her arms, her hand (she licked it off) and even in her hair.

“You need a bath,” Sue stated.

Before that happened, however, the girls applied Sue’s make-up, including lipstick and nail polish that they applied themselves. It paired beautifully with the frosting.

Then I joined them outside in a pool that was filled with water so cold it could have given a walrus a coronary. Luckily for me the pool had a leak so we had to get out.

The swim was a lot faster than Lily’s bath, which turned out to be a marathon of Sue washing the remaining frosting off the giggling girl, but she needed a shake to cheer her up while Lily made her own tides.

After watching a cartoon called “Vegetarian Tales in the City” (my fumbling with the remote prompted Lily to ask, “Can’t you control your own TV?”) and eating hot dogs and hamburgers for dinner, we sat down. to see the girls’ favorite movie, Encanto, which I’ve seen more than any adult in America. The obstacle was popcorn that I burnt to a crisp by leaving it in the microwave too long.

Halfway through the movie, the girls took a nap. After waking up, they went to sleep, suffering from sleep.

The next morning they helped Sue make pancakes – with rainbow sprinkles! I must have eaten half a dozen heavy fritters. They are still in my digestive system.

After playing classics, swinging in the hammock, and eating a lunch of chicken nuggets and leftover hamburgers that were now the consistency of hockey pucks, it was time for the girls to go home.

“Lily and I have been waiting for this for years!” Chloe exclaimed.

“My friends’ play dates aren’t exciting at all, but this sleepover was the best!” Lily turned on.

After the girls and Guillaume left, Sue and I sat down to catch our breath and enjoy the memories of a wonderful weekend.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Sue. “And I don’t drink it in the bathroom.”

Jerry Zezima writes a humor column for the Tribune News Service and is the author of six books. His latest is One for the Ageless: How to Stay Young and Immature Even When You’re Really Old. Contact him at [email protected] or through jerryzezima.blogspot.com.