Ouch

 

My view for dodge ball

I was nearly face down in the snow today.

Oh, wait. We'll get there.

My great-niece Gabby celebrated her fifth birthday today with a party at a trampoline place in Cheshire, CT.

So, being the clueless, single uncle that I am (including no Sean today) I first made a Target run with a suggestion of what to buy as a gift. My mission was clear and I accomplished it. However, I have zero confidence that I but anything good.

I keep believing I'll rebuild myself one day. Somehow.

Having left Mahopac early, I made my way to Cheshire without incident. The trampoline park felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in the usual kind of soulless metal building that one would associate with such a place.

Albeit one with a giant "muffler man" sitting near the entrance off the main road.

Still, it's not for appearances, especially on the outside.

Inside was a lot of fun.

I had 40 minutes to sit and wait for the others to arrive but we soon gathered together and I prepared to watch.

That would allow my sister and I to talk as the kids jumped.

And jumped.

And jumped.

Then the adults began to tentatively approach the convention of jumping.

Laura and I kept talking as she was hoping to avoid the prospect of being on the trampolines. Her granddaughters made sure she wouldn't forget a promise she made to participate.

I admit, my inner 14-year-old was fighting with the reality of my 53-year-old bones. 

"If you go," I offered, "I'll join you."

So I signed the waiver that felt like I had given my life story, donned their special socks, and, well, I jumped.

There was a dodge ball area where I spent the majority of my time, proving that I could still dodge both a wrench and a ball.

I dodged, ducked, dipped, dove, and dodged.

I plucked my adult nephews with the heavy foam balls.

I bounced.

I laughed.

I made sure to stop occasionally as my body reminded me this was a bit strenuous.

Yet, the 14-year-old in me was bummed when the bell sounded for our time to end.

The adult wasn't thrilled with the sweat forming on me.

But pizza and cake awaited.

The fun of being a kid had reached its conclusion.

Shoes were put back on. Food was consumed. Arcade games were played.

It was time to go and I walked with the family back towards our cars.

That's when I elected to cut across a low wooden fence. You know the type. It basically serves as the boundary in a parking lot row.

Right foot? No sweat.

Left food? Sweat.

It hooked and, like a statue, I tumbled to the snow. Not quite face down, but still pathetically down.

Sure, my left shin hurts and has a delightful welt.

Sure, I was covered in snow from nearly head to toe.

Sure, the bones and muscles that were already sore from trampolines were planning even more pain.

But the most pain?

My pride.

I was mortified.

So I'll feel all of that tomorrow as I watch football but I could revel in the fact that, while I'm perfectly aware of where my driver's license says, there's still a little boy who knows how to have a little fun.

At least my gift was a hit.