We had a trampoline growing up.
It didn’t have one of those pansy, fancy schmancy safety nets. Or posh safety padding. You just jumped as high as you could and hoped you didn’t sail off into the rose bushes or do a face plant into the metal springs.
It was awesome.
Except for the two years of chiropractic work I needed for my back pain. Oh yes. For real.
But this inexplicably did not diminish my adoration for the trampoline.
Because trampolines are so insanely cool.
And now we’re in the suburbs and one of our neighbors has one. They kindly invited my girls over and Dylan and Summer could not believe so much fun could be had on this crazy jumping apparatus.
And thankfully my neighbor said to me, “You’re welcome anytime.”
Because my days go like this…
“When can we go on the trampoline again?”
“Can we jump on the trampoline now?”
“But can we just go now?”
But then my neighbor stopped by the other day and said she wasn’t comfortable with us jumping on the trampoline when she’s not around. Which I totally understand. But now I feel all weird and awkward going over there at all because I don’t really know her very well and now she thinks I crossed the line and I’m some kind of trampoline tramp or something.
And of course, Dylan and Summer keeping asking, “When can we jump on the trampoline?!”
And “never” just isn’t a popular answer around here.
So I guess now we have to buy one.
Except it’s not really in our recession budget. Plus I think you actually have to bribe someone to get homeowner’s insurance once you own one.
But the girls sure do love it…
Oh wait, that might be me.