15 Week Sleep Over

I went for a run. Mark informs me, upon my return, that there is something waiting for me on our bedroom door.

I knock on the door. Isabella answers. "This is my room now." she tells me. (Note to self: apparently a bedroom can be commandeered with a simple self-portrait attached to the door with a sticker-- according to pirate code of a five year old. )
"Can you go get Daddy?"
"Sure." I say.
I go and get Mark. Mark comes to the door, knocks, and she excitedly lets him enter the room.
"We are having a sleep over for 15 weeks," she tells me. "But you and Matthew can't come."
So Matthew and I are left at the door, while the cool kids have their party. 

 There is wailing, weeping, and much lamentation.

 There is kicking of legs,

and flailing on the floor, until we are finally invited to the sleepover-party...

...which turns out to be Isabella barricaded behind a cushion, while Mark reads her books. Awesome.