Meet the Parents

My parents are coming for a visit this weekend. You know what that means. The cute neighbor is going to meet the parents.

I'm not really worried about what they're going to think of him. He already has very high approval ratings from The Important People he's met thus far, most notably Fenella, and this will be the first boy Grayer or I have introduced to our parents in a very, very long time. Years, actually. They want grandchildren. He is very highly educated and well-groomed. They will love him.

While my mom can be kind of a wild-card, I'm not too worried about what he will think of them, either. Mainly because my dad is probably one of the most likable people on the planet. They may be a bit nerdy, what with their ballroom dance habit and bike helmet rear view mirrors, but they're not dealbreakers for sure.

No, what will make this weekend interesting is where I choose to sleep. Being the top-notch hostess that I am, I will surrender my bedroom to my parents. Thus leaving me with two sleeping options:

1. I sleep on one of our two couches.
2. I do what I normally do, especially on the weekends, and sleep at the cute neighbor's house.

The last time I brought a boy home (in college, people) he was exiled to the guest bedroom. (In case you're wondering, yes, we found ways around this.) So you would think I should be sleeping on the couch, right?

Oh, no. I'm going rogue. I am a grown-up. I am 27 years old. Very nearly 28. If I want to have a sleep-over with my boyfriend, I very well will. And why should I have to spend a night tossing and turning on the couch while the cat pulls my hair when I can get a comfortable night's sleep in a comfortable bed? If he didn't live across the street, we may have a different story, but he lives across the street. I can see his front door from mine. If they think for a minute that that isn't happening on a regular basis, they need a reality check.

Aren't you worried about what they're going to say? you ask. That's the beauty of it. They won't say anything. That would mean having an uncomfortable conversation, and if there is one thing we are really, truly good at in this family, it is avoiding uncomfortable conversations. I mean yes, our mom sent Grayer a condom sticker, but she didn't actually say anything about it.

So check in next week when I give an update, and Grayer relays what the parents have to say about it.