Dad and The Trampoline

I bounded not once but twice on the trampoline, hoping to get the height and momentum needed to flip my body forward on the next jump over the edge and into the pit of foam cubes.

 

That’s just what a random five-year-old kid did on the turn before mine. And it looked easy enough.

 

Besides, I’ve been known to do forward flips off the diving board with regularity, if not with grace. How different could it be?

 

Once the kid before me cleared the landing area, and the teenager with the whistle signaled it was my turn to go, and my daughter watching gave me a supportive “whoop,” that’s what I set out to do – a forward flip. Yes. It was decided.

 

Yet somewhere between my second bound on the trampoline and the final launching one, all the courage I had mustered sprung right out of me. Rather than a final bound and a flip, my frightened legs absorbed the momentum like old shocks, and I stuttered cautiously to the edge and lamely fell face first toward the waiting foam.

 

I imagine there’s a moment growing up when a kid realizes their parents aren’t super heroes; when it dawns on them that the person they’ve held in special regard all these years is just normal, and not even terribly cool.

 

If it hadn’t happened already, that moment certainly occurred for my eldest daughter as my uncoordinated, hulking mass of trepidation gingerly leapt over the edge of the precipice and landed awkwardly in the pile of foam cubes. 

 

No height to my vault. No gracefulness. No flip.

 

Of course, she would tell you the moment she realized my failings had happened much sooner. And many times over.

 

Pink-panted blur in the middle is our 7 year old.
The boy is the one literally bouncing off the wall.

Still, that particular display of my mortality and well-earned humility on our family’s outing to Sky Zone Indoor Trampoline Park certainly put an exclamation point on it.

 

Our family found ourselves at the trampoline park during the kids’ recent February break – a traditional week off in the middle of winter when most upstate New Yorkers high-tail it for Florida. We, as usual, did not. Instead, we bounced.

 

Luckily for us we live in a place where people would go insane if someone didn't design and build lots of indoor entertainment facilities -- like the indoor ropes course at Canyon Climb, or the 26,000 square foot kids' play arena at Billy Bees, or the field o' trampoline at Sky Zone.

 

The trampoline park, built inside a cavernous rectangular space that used to be a Hechinger’s, is divided into sections: a general bouncing area with many small squares for individual jumping; three “dodge ball courts” for specific age groups and private parties; a basketball dunking section with two hoops; and then the infamous foam pits. You pay per person for passes to the whole park in 30 minute increments, and are required to wear specific trampoline “SkySocks” with sticky bottoms – which you can buy for two bucks.

 

There are lots of safety rules, like only one person per trampoline square and no double flips (no worries there). All bouncers are divided by age, so that little kids are only jumping around other small people, which makes sense but can create some logistical challenges for bigger families.

 

It can also get crowded quick, so it’s a good idea to call ahead on busy weekends and over the holiday break.

 

For the most part, the kids liked bouncing around the park (and that they got to keep the brightly-colored orange socks we had to buy to enter). Not exactly “Disney ears,” but certainly a useful addition to the sock drawer. Hey, you never know when you're gonna need trampoline socks that match absolutely nothing you own.

 

It was fun for all. Though next time we’re bringing a friend for our oldest so she has someone her size to bounce with – or they can just pout and roll their eyes in unison.

 

No matter what we do, I’m going to avoid the foam pit of disappointment. 

 

Then again.  Maybe I’ll try to redeem myself. How hard could that be?

 

Yes. It’s decided. I will do a flip … next time.


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