Morgan had packed for a sleepover before, but he apparently forgot all about that. Or the thought of spending the entire night at Sam’s house literally drove him crazy with excitement, and in his frenzy he was incapable of telling the difference between necessary items—a toothbrush, a change of underwear—and unnecessary items. Like his bedding, every pair of jeans he owned, and most inexplicably, his computer keyboard.
“I wish Sam went to my school,” Morgan said, while I helped him repack his bag.
“I know. But you still get to see him plenty during the week and the weekends.”
“I don’t get to see him when I’m with Mom. Do you think we could have a play date then?”
“Well, we’ll have to talk to Mr. Hardison about that. But your mother doesn’t live far from the park, so maybe.”
“Do you th
