Random Thoughts Pertaining to a Birthday Jumpy Park Party

Celebrating #10

On the anniversary of her tenth birthday at the trampoline house party with virtually all her friends…

Injury Percentage: When you start talking about a trampoline party with 15-17 children between the ages of 6-12, you need to begin considering injury percentages. Who is most likely to sprain something? Which two kids are going to bump foreheads and knock each other out? Who will need stitches and how far from the ER is the trampoline park?

My estimate was 50/50, but Little Bean had a more optimistic estimate.

“I’d say there’s a 25 percent chance somebody will get hurt, daddy,” she explained.

“Who?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Could be anybody!”

Indeed. In the end, only one child came away with a bruise and one had an upset stomach. I’d say we beat the odds!

Fox Cakes: That’s what Little Bean and her mother called their cupcake creations. Instead of a birthday cake, she opted to go with a couple dozen cupcakes, designed to resemble foxes, her favorite creature.

The two spent the afternoon before the party decorating them - orange icing with a variety of candy jewels, dots and decorations. They were a hit. Momma Bear built a little Happy Birthday banner and I encouraged the children - I think there were, like, 200 of them - to sing Happy Birthday so loudly that shoppers at the super market next door could hear.

Now that I think of it, feeding them cupcakes right before flipping upside down on trampolines was likely what lead to the upset stomach. Live and learn!

I Need New Glasses: I spent a solid minute reading, then re-reading, and trying to understand the sign on the door of the trampoline park that showed times of special clubs. One of those clubs was called The Little Lepers. I just couldn’t imagine what that club was, or how they would pull that off safely. Was leper a name for a sports team, did it mean something other than it’s definition? After a while, I realized the word was leapers - Little Leapers - not lepers.

Yeah, that made more sense.

A Decade: I stood up there on the little raised sitting platform with all the other parents, watching my daughter run and jump. I could hear her voice from quite far, perhaps because she’s unabashedly loud, but also most likely because I’ve been listening to her voice for ten years and can pick it out from a distance.

One decade. One decade of my life has gone by as her dad. I feel like she’s doing ok, like we’ve had more wins than losses, that she’s a pretty cool kid. I feel like it’s going fine so far.

I mean, the tween and teen years are coming. My knees are going. There are challenges on the not so distant horizon. But I’ll go on documenting our journey here, as long as she’s ok with that and with her input. We’ll keep nudging her toward art and science. I hope she’ll keep being ok with going to concerts with me, and not just for the ride.

I see a lot of memes and reels about parents living the “good” life after their kids are gone or having more free time and so forth. But I don’t know, I like my kid. I think she’s neat. I think this IS a good life and I hope she wants to stick around with us for a while.

So, here’s to the next ten, and maybe beyond. Maybe we need to start planning for her party when she turns into a teenager.