an early memory

My childhood was riddled with various mishaps, much of which were apparently not as branded in my mind as I hoped upon reading this week's blog assignment.
However, I managed to remember this one birthday I attended. . . . In the good ol' days of playdates and early grade school, I went to my best friend's house for her birthday sleepover. We spent the night in her tree fort with a few other girls. Early in the morning, we woke up and started laughing and screaming and telling jokes and having a marvolous time. We were awake and wanted the rest of the world to know.
The neighbor's apparently heard, for our roucous was halted by the arrival of a policeman. All the rest of the girls pretended to be asleep, but when he called out to us, someone had to go talk to him. So I picked myself up and peered over the edge of the treefort. I spoke with him for a moment, informing him that "We're okay, thank you very much sir." My friend's mom came out and I slunk into the background with a feeling of exhilaration. We were in trouble, but I had done what was needed.
Needless to say, our yelling contests were put on hold indefinitely and we spent the rest of the morning indoors, but my trust in myself grew considerably that morning.