The Sleepover

“Button, button, who’s got the button?”

My Great-Grandma Deloris Karels repeated this simple phrase as my cousin, sister, and I slowly walked her living room searching for that button. All she did was hide one somewhere and yet, we were so excited to find it.

“Maren is getting colder. Oh, Mackenzie is getting very hot!”

There was no special prize for finding the button and as it was only the four of us in Grandma K’s apartment, there was no audience to applaud our triumphs. Sometimes the winner was allowed to hide the button next, but the three of us usually let Grandma K hide it again. While she did, we would wait in her powdery perfumed bedroom. My sister couldn’t contain her excitement from the suspense and would bury her face in the bed. My cousin and I liked to look at all the old pictures that were stuck in the vanity mirror above Grandma’s silver backed hairbrush, comb, and mirror set.

When Button, Button finally lost its charm, Grandma K had many more old-fashioned games to entice us. She was always fond of games. Three other elderly ladies lived in the building and they all often met Grandma K for a game of cards. Naturally, we had already played a few games of Go Fish and Old Maid. Caffeine from the coffee Grandma K had let us have—or should I say creamer and sugar with a splash of coffee—pulsed through us late into the night. My cousin, sister, and I were meant to be having a special sleepover at Grandma K’s apartment, but it seemed more like we were being encouraged to test our limits without the supervision of our parents.

The caffeine made us all the more eager to try more of Grandma K’s games. We moved on to Clothespin Drop, which is exactly like what it sounds. Each of us took a turn during a round in which we tried to drop old clothespins into a large mason jar from varying heights. First we knelt on a chair and then later we stood on it to make aiming more difficult. I don’t remember who was better that night, but I do remember how much fun the games were.

Once we finally started to tucker out, Grandma K played on her air organ—or did she play some harmonica? She was very musically talented and could play equally well on both instruments. We didn’t want the night to end, but it had to. The three of us squeezed into the big bed in Grandma K’s spare room and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of our somewhat rebellious night, one of the best sleepovers we had all had.

At Grandma K's apartment, 2001.
Me, Grandma K, William, Mom, Maren