Trampolines are the Devil

We live in an awesome area, on a great street, tucked far away enough from everyone else. Well, most everyone else.

The front of our house only overlooks one family's backyard. And lucky for me. This family have TWO teenage girls.
Cheerleaders.
And they own a big fucking TRAMPOLINE!

That's right. those contraptions of fun and death all rolled into one. Yup.

So my darling princess SydneyBeth, who is six, wants nothing more than to play with the big girls and be a cheerleader and do flips on that thing wearing pink shorty shorts with letters on the bum.

Ain't gonna happen.

I let her jump with the big girls once a week, and I watch like a hawk.
But, the big consolation is that I said Princess could take trampoline classes if she really wanted to.

This was a couple of weeks ago. I was hoping she would forget, like lots of other whims.
No dice. CONSTANT nagging.
"When do I start trampoline classes?"
"Soon, punkin"

So I finally started to call around to gyms. Now, Princess is already in art and gymnastics (no tramp) during the week and swimming on Saturdays, so this has to fit the schedule. Of course the gym with a tramp NEAR MY FLIPPIN HOUSE is full. The only other place is about 30 minutes away, but I will do it for happiness, physical fitness, and distance from the scary backyard trampoline. And cheerleaders. For now.

And no, I will not buy my own, yet. Aside from the fact that Jonny is 4, has no fear, and will certainly get MORE scars and lose MORE teeth if I bought that thing, big fat trampolines with the big metal poles and the net around them smack to me a little of "Whiskey Tango". When I was a kid we had an above ground pool, so needless to say I am trying to run from my WT past.

Trampoline class starts Monday. Have to pick up Princess from school to get there on time. With Jonny in tow, this should be interesting. Stay tuned....