I'm getting old (sigh)

An old college pal, who happens to be a childless bachelor, is hosting the New Year's Eve party this year...in his cozy townhouse that boasts new hardwood floors, but precious few kid-friendly entertainment options. Before RSVPing, I envisioned the following scenario: my charming-but-rambunctious offspring ecstatically hoover their way through all the festive snacks they're not normally allowed to eat (elapsed time: 10 minutes). They settle down to watch TV, another activity that is strictly monitored and limited at home (elapsed time: 30 minutes). They begin to feel bored and restless (elapsed time: 5 minutes). They initiate a spirited game of tackle football, using a dinner roll from the buffet, which inevitably ends with someone's head denting the aforementioned hardwood (elapsed time: about 2 minutes). Therefore, I decided the only prudent course of action was to try to rustle up a babysitter and leave them at home. I wasn't too hopeful, as I expected most teenagers to already have their own plans lined up for the NYE event. One of our favorite sitters was a little vague when I asked her if she was available. After quizzing me for a few minutes about the details, she finally came to the point: "You'd probably be home after midnight, right?" With an involuntary chuckle, I assured her that my husband and I would be back long before that, probably in our pjs, and maybe even asleep. "Oh, that's okay, then," she chirped, "my friend just wants me over at her house by the time the ball drops!" Hmm, I sort of recall those byegone days...before I valued my solid 8 hours of shuteye more than the champagne and noisemakers...and before the monkey boys woke me up every morning at 7 a.m. no matter how late any of us went to bed. So, I may be feeling ancient, but I will hand my children over to the sitter and go revel with the adults...until at least 10:00!