The Tsunamis have a gigantic trampoline parked right next to my favourite spot in the world. I sit on my front verandah with a view over the valley and listen to their squeals of joy as they bounce and leap and "look at me, mummy" for hours on end.
There is something so right about children playing so joyously, wearing themselves ragged with the sheer hard work of having fun. The pleasure of watching them is supremely addictive.
Last night I went on the trampoline myself.
In my head I was leaping with merry abandon, at one with the air. I jumped, I bounced, I cavorted. The odd backflip was performed.
The reality was... different. I didn't cavort much at all. Unable to leap even small buildings in a single, half-hearted push, my spring had definitely sprung. It was the equivalent of a Boeing 747 trying to take off in a wind tunnel.
I've lost my bounce.
Is this what happens as we get older (and fatter... let's not forget the fatter!)? Sheesh.
Do you still bounce or do you feel grounded these days too?
[Image via weheartit]